


Paradox

by 10MileSoul



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: AU Ghost Crew, Action/Adventure, Alexsandr Kallus Has Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dimension Travel, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Survival, Trauma, but its here, im hesitant to tag time travel bc its minimal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10MileSoul/pseuds/10MileSoul
Summary: When a response mission to a mysterious distress signal goes awry, Zeb and Kallus are stranded on a remote moon.Only, the situation unravels into something far more complex, ensuing into a race against time to make it out alive- and forcing the two to overcome their internal conflicts in the process.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 55
Kudos: 47





	1. Dreams and The Crash

If there was some remedy to a forever uncertain heart, Kallus couldn't have felt further from its grasp.

The sounds of the forest slowly faded in, overwhelming. Droning chirps of wildlife, wind softly rushing. Inescapable heat and muggy air settled as a blanket over sweat-drenched skin. Before Kallus, a dawn broke. Violet and orange arose superimposed above an endless sea of trees and rocky terrain- the landscape painted darkly, silhouettes barring him from the horizon.

He recognized this place. The distant chaos of battle rung far away. Looking down at his hands, Kallus cradled the crude configuration of a T-7 disruptor. The wind picked up now, howling. He dropped the weapon in horror.

Alexsandr Kallus awoke from his dream; fists clenched. Nightmare clammy. 

For a moment, he saw glimpses of his old Imperial quarters, until the mitigating view of a darkened ship cabin unveiled itself around him. He studied his hands. Searching within them for any sign of lurking malice, then ran them through his short beard and tousled blond hair, collecting himself.

A presence stirred from behind. Zeb. Reaching out, a knowing palm rubbed Kallus' back, claws lightly prickling. Kallus frowned. He silently scolded himself for waking him.

“Only a dream,” Kallus quietly said, unsure of which person in the bunk he was trying to convince. “Go back to bed, Zeb."

The hand and claws withdrew. The spot of skin where it had occupied now suddenly felt bare and incomplete. "If that's a dream, I don't wanna know what nightmares look like," Zeb replied.

Kallus caught a glance of Zeb's dark obscuration- thick, broad shoulders and ears attentive. Eyebrows curved upwards in commiseration. 

“M’not fallin’ back asleep until you do too,'' Zeb grunted, his deep voice muffled now into the pillow. Kallus wasn't sure if he was more comforted or alarmed at that prospect. He could manage himself just fine.

“Go back to bed, Zeb.”

Kallus slumped back down onto the bunk as he spoke. Burly arms luring him closer, Kallus buried his face into the comforting cocoon of Zeb's warm chest, fingers silently recounting the stories of each of the scars there.

And then, Kallus was overcome by that feeling once more- of overwhelming, placating calmness. A feeling that threw a rope taut around his aching thoughts. One that was artificially foreign to him. One that he recognized like his breath, yet, instinctively rejected time and time again.

One that eluded Kallus still, slipping through the grasp of his ill-fated fingers as quick as it came. The lasat sighed sleepily, his throat rumbling against Kallus' head. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

As Zeb immediately began snoring again, slipping back down into the alluring clutch of sleep, Kallus’ eyes remained open all night. 

The morning that followed, the misty, foggy air in Yavin 4 air cooled Kallus' lungs as he jogged through the forest trail. Zeb maintained the pace beside him. A week prior, Kallus had convinced him to begrudgingly participate alongside these daily morning jogs, an argument not won easily.

Mid-conversation as they ran, Kallus gestured for Zeb to stop. "Alright, slow down, slow down," he laughed slightly, discretely taking the moment to ease the spreading pain in his bad knee. He decelerated to a stop. "You're rambling," Kallus teased. "Lost me. Completely.”

Zeb halted a couple feet ahead, also laughing, resting his large arms behind his head. "Okay. First, that's an exaggeration," he replied, talking over him. "I was makin’ total sense. An' second, you're only takin' a break cause I was about to pass you," he said matter-of-factly. "Not that it's a competition. But, I am faster. Don't worry, you'd still slightly beat... mildly irritated rancors?"

Kallus raised an eyebrow, deadpan, accustomed to Zeb’s dry sense of humor. "It's a question of endurance, not speed."

“Whatever. You're sidetrackin'. What I was _tryin'_ to say before," Zeb continued, "was, you know when you're havin' a dream, and somethin' really good happens in it?"

Still unsure of what exactly his point was, Kallus nodded nonetheless.

"Yeah. Last night, it was like that," he said. "Dreamt about you. Felt so real.”

This could've diverged into a multitude of scenarios. A specific one surfaced to mind. Kallus threw him a suggestive look. "As in..."

"No, not like that," Zeb chuckled. His hands grabbed onto Kallus', claws scratching fondly against leather gloves. "Jus' a normal dream," he explained. "Us two. No war. Woke up and was so happy. But, I'm tryin' to... what do you call it? That's a branchin' point for my next topic. Is that what you call it?" 

Kallus tried to follow along. Bemused. "So, apropos of this tangent of yours, your point is..."

"Right. My point is: those are the kinda things we should be havin’ dreams about,'' Zeb answered, his expression heavyhearted, forehead raised. “Not, you know. The bad ones."

 _Oh._ Kallus faintly nodded in understanding, cycling through hesitance and then annoyance, eyes narrowing. He wasn’t in need of help. He was not weak, not some fragile, broken limb that required mending. Or, so Kallus convinced himself to blindly believe time and time again. “Zeb," he said, stern. "We’re not having this conversation right now. This is counterproductive.”

Zeb returned a dubious look. "You're bein' defensive."

"No. I'm not." 

"Case n' point! You jus' did it again," Zeb reasoned. "S'a catch-22, cause by tryin' to deny it, you're also implyin' that it _was_ somethin'." He grinned smugly, one tooth caught on his lip.

Kallus frowned. A beat of silence passed. "Your logic is baffling me," he argued. "That's a fallacy."

"Whatever. S'besides the point." Zeb dissuaded the topic further with a wave of his hand. "Kal, m’worried about you. I jus’ wanna stave it off from becomin’ worse."

"Becoming worse? There's nothing _to_ stave off, Garazeb, because I'm _fine.”_

Both received stubborn, tense glares from the other. Zeb was only attempting to help, Kallus reminded himself. He intended no harm, yet, Kallus couldn’t help but give into the unceasing impulse to deflect his attempts. To hold the shields up while he still could. 

It was easier that way. 

Right?

Kallus knew he wouldn’t win this one. Instead, he ended the conversation with a look. He checked the chronometer on his wrist. "I propose that we finish our run, and table this discussion for later, OK?” 

Zeb frowned at him. They shared an earnest look before he returned to his usual attitude. “Fine. Only cause you’re so kriffin’ pretty with your cheeks all red like that," he said with a thin smile. He cupped Kallus' face in his hands and stared at him for a moment. Kallus stared back. At Zeb's intense green eyes. At his carefully shaped facial hair. At his downturned ears.

Kallus could've gotten lost in that piercing gaze forever. He loved him so damn much. So much, that he was reminded in every knowing inch of his stinging mind that he didn't deserve Zeb. Kallus moved his head so that he could kiss Zeb’s left palm. "We should go,” he whispered. “I imagine I have plenty of work awaiting me."

That he did. For the most part, Kallus' day had been terribly uneventful, stationed at his cramped desk in Intelligence. As important as the work was, Kallus couldn't help but feel an itch to be partaking in something more... immediate, active. And unfortunately, the day seemed to not be lumbering in accordance to that.

That was, until Kallus unexpectedly received new orders from Command that late afternoon: _Requested accompaniment on mission with Spectre 4. Search-and-rescue. Recovery of distressed personnel._

Glancing over the datapad, Kallus raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been on assignment with Zeb in what quite some time. Not that it was a suprise to complain about.

“Must have been Zeb’s doing," Hera explained when Kallus confronted her about it that afternoon. She brushed dust off her gloves and grabbed the device to look over, shrugging her shoulders. She smiled. "I like that part.” She pointed to one of the lines and stifled a laugh. “‘Needs to get 'redacted' out of desk,’” she read, amused. "That has Zeb written all over it."

Hera moved over to the other side of the cargo bay on the _Ghost_. Kallus re-clipped the datapad back to his belt and stood with his hands on his hips, in deep thought.

"While you're here, got a hand?” Hera asked with a warm smile, gesturing to a crate.

"I've got two," he replied.

Hera chuckled as he moved it. "Thanks,” she said. “We really need all the help we can get nowadays." Hera wouldn't be accompanying them on the mission, considering her pregnancy, no matter how well known she made her discontent about it. All Kallus did was nod in reply, and Hera squinted at him with weary concern. "Kallus. Is everything alright with Zeb?" she asked.

Kallus opened his mouth to ask why, before Hera answered for him.

"He's been uncharacteristically non-talkative lately," she continued. "Something's up. Spill." 

He paused, torn between his reserved nature and inclined need to respond to direct orders. Kallus was by no means an open book, yet Hera always encouraged him past his comfort level. "I have a hunch. He's concerned about me," he answered. "Or, something of that nature."

Hera frowned at him. "Does he have reason to be?"

Kallus was caught off guard. The unrelenting compassion of the woman never ceased to surprise him. But, before he could try and dodge that question, they were cut off by heavy footsteps and Zeb emerging from the ship. “Kal!" he greeted, face lit up. "I see that command approved my request." 

Hera's head swiveled back and forth between the two. She turned away to give them a moment. " _Phantom's_ prepped for departure whenever," she reminded. 

“Right, 'appreciate it, Hera," Zeb called back. He returned his attention back to Kallus, apprehensive. "She's been restless. Doin' nothin' all the time's really gettin' to her. Anyway, the mission. Jus’ thought it would be a good idea,” he continued to explain. “You know, even if we are still workin’." He met Kallus, hands finding his waist. “For a little getaway, maybe a bit of scenery. Seems like an easy mission. Not bad, huh?”

Kallus considered bringing to light what Hera had mentioned, and how he had a sneaking suspicion that this was somehow related to their conversation from earlier in some ulterior way. Yet, he decided against it. "No, not bad at all," he agreed, head tilted up to look at him.

Zeb’s ears perked up. "Completely unrelated question: you're not, by some crazy chance, seethin' about earlier?" he carefully asked.

"It's contingent," Kallus replied. He pretended to think. "No. Not seething. Why?"

“Because,” Zeb crooned, hands migrating down Kallus’ back. “I was thinkin'. You know, right now, we have a little bit of time-”

"-Work,” corrected Kallus as he cut him off. “We have a little bit of _work_ to do.”

Zeb returned a dull look. “Wow, you read my mind. Uncanny. That's _exactly_ what I was thinkin'," Zeb said dryly. He rolled his eyes. "Kal, you're killin' me. Enjoy the moment?"

Kallus frowned, now self-conscious that he had unintentionally ruined the mood. He tried to rope it back. “If you hurry up with the preparations, perhaps I will,'" he said coyly. "I'm quite certain there will be plenty of time during the trip there.” 

An excited grin grew on Zeb’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leaned in for a kiss, meeting Zeb's enticing lips.

And for a moment, Kallus was okay.

Before they departed on the _Phantom II,_ Kallus took another glance at the dossier. The mission was relatively simple. Not much information was available. Most likely a reflection of how much was in fact known, given the circumstance. Only that a Rebel distress signal had been sent out from just on the cusp of the labyrinth of the Unknown Regions. Kallus wasn’t even certain he had ever been to that pocket of the galaxy. A fact rather unnerving to him.

However, the journey offered him and Zeb plenty of alone time, which was worth the bargain.

As the blue vortex of hyperspace swirled lazily in motion in front of them, the two lied on the co-pilot chair of the ship, Kallus facing Zeb on top of his lap. Soft, absentminded touches slowly faded into sleep.

The navicomputer beeped. Kallus stirred, gently stroking the lasat's defined biceps and planting a kiss onto his forehead. “Zeb,” he whispered, now tangling his hands through his coarse facial hair.

A smile spread across Zeb's lips, the grip of clawed hands on thighs tightening. “Hm?”

“That’s our cue.”

Kallus pried himself away and turned to deactivate the indicator. Grabbing his pants off of the floor, he began to dress. “Can’t it wait jus’ a bit longer?” Zeb grumbled, stretching upwards with his torso and horizontally with his bulky, muscular legs, yawning.

"I’m afraid not,” Kallus said. To better access the computer, he hauled Zeb's feet away from the dash. 

Lackadaisically, Zeb slunk off of the chair. He stood up, humming contentedly. "M'just gonna go like this," he joked, gesturing to his lack of clothing. "You seem to like it, m'sure everyone else would too. ' _Bare-azeb'."_

Kallus huffed a laugh through his nose. He always had a quiet fondness for- and admiration of- Zeb's humor. "I am quite the proponent of it," he replied. "Unfortunately, I'm sure they'll be anticipating the _clothed_ Zeb. Whoever it is that we're finding." He gave a light pat to Zeb's furred ass. "Hurry up. We land shortly."

Zeb petulantly obeyed and headed to the back, grumbling something about Kallus being a "stickler.”

The ship emerged out of hyperspace with a shudder seconds later, white stripes de-blurring, shrinking, and then condensing into stars. Outside, the existential expanse of space rolled out sombre into the uttermost ends of the galaxy. A meek system of planets resided there, lonely- seemed to be the epicenter of some immense sense of dread. 

Beyond the system, the solar storms and black holes of the Unknown Regions loomed menacingly.

Kallus shrugged off this feeling. He observed the quaint moon where the signal had originated. It appeared temperate, governed in greens, oranges, and light blues. Still standing up, he punched in the controls to prepare for atmospheric entry.

A calmness fell between the two. Too calm. 

As the ship made its steady descent through the fringes of clouds, Zeb came behind Kallus, jumpsuit now back on, wrapped him a back hug and lodged his chin atop his head. He hummed deeply to some melody. Kallus closed his eyes, relaxed in the hold.

Suddenly, the _Phantom II_ buffeted to the side. Incandescent brightness flooded the cockpit- engulfed by a bubble of light, the ship rattling.

“Kal, what happened?” Zeb shouted, sounding heavily worried, understandably so. After another abrupt jerk of turbulence, Zeb lost his footing and stumbled to the back end of the ship.

Kallus, having held into the pilot chair to stay put, pulled himself into it. Fighting against the steering proved futile. He fumbled his fingers over the instruments to find the computer. "I'm not sure. Perhaps we've hit a storm," he replied. He found the computer and squinted his eyes at it. “I’m getting a reading I don’t quite understand."

In actuality, referring to it as a reading at all was generous. The computer was incomprehensible, spitting out random letters and symbols. "Zeb! Sit down. Now!”

Kallus strapped himself to the chair and heard Zeb stumble onto the fold-down seats in the back, durasteel groaning and creaking loudly around them. Kallus glanced up ahead through the viewport. All he could perceive through the pure white brightness was sporadic yellow lightening, intensifying.

But then, in the blink of an eye, another ship emerged through the void, heading straight towards them. Kallus didn't have time to react. It hit in a devastating full-on collision; his vision whiplashed from white to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any feedback/kudos is greatly appreciated!


	2. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for injury / implied blood

Pain flooded Kallus' senses. He shook the dizziness from his head, vision momentarily static. The ship wasn't in motion anymore, the air around hot, humid, and thick. An emergency alarm beeped weakly from behind. They must have crash-landed onto the moon. 

Kallus went through a quick internal maintenance check: head, chest, legs, arms, hands. Save for the contusions and burning cuts all around, and the soreness in his knee and neck, he was still functioning. Unlatching himself from the harness of the cockpit chair, he grabbed onto the dashboard in front of him. 

_Where was Zeb?_

Kallus hauled himself upright, and turned around stiffly. His eyes searched across the wrecked ship. Durasteel around was brutalized- warped and ripped into jagged shreds in some places. Electricity sparked wildly from damaged sources. 

The lasat was in a heap, collapsed on the floor in the far back end. Kallus’ head spun. 

Ignoring the warnings his muscles sent, Kallus maneuvered across the ship. Hands braced the wall for support. “Come on. Come on…” Kallus muttered, still in shock. He fell beside him. "Come on. Come on. You gotta get up. You gotta get up." With strain, he rolled Zeb face up, frantically checked for a pulse on his wrist. 

Thankfully, there was one. He was breathing as well. However, through short, hyperventilated stutters, his eyes clenched shut in pain.

"Hey. Hey. You're all right. You're fine."

Kallus didn’t need to look too close to find the source of Zeb's anguish. On his right shoulder, what appeared like a deep laceration tore through, cutting into his upper pectoral. He must have gotten tangled in a sharp piece of durasteel. 

“I need to get a better assessment of the injury, Zeb. Okay?” Kallus stated more than asked. The last thing that Kallus ought to do was try and move him, out of fear of escalating it further somehow. Zeb's jumpsuit had been torn up near the wound. Kallus hastily tugged the top half of it back, giving him a clear view.

It was difficult for Kallus to exactly discern, he was no medic. But, he could assert that the cut wasn't promising in the slightest. He knew that Zeb was holding back, that he was in a lot more pain than let known. Just as Kallus would have done if he were in the same circumstance. 

“Y-you just _had_ to g-get my clothes off,” Zeb breathed, wincing. “So needy.” 

Kallus hushed him and stood up. "Stop that. You'll waste energy." Of course Zeb would try and lighten the mood, even with a gash in his shoulder and chest. He scavenged for the medical supplies. The med-kit was slightly dented, yet when he opened it, the contents remained intact. He grabbed bacta patches and returned to Zeb, firmly pressing them onto the gaping wound.

Zeb arched his back in a hoarse hiss at the contact, claws screeching against durasteel. Kallus used his body weight to hold him down. “Please, Zeb!” he demanded. “Please! Only for a moment!”

He acquiesced with a whimper. After applying the rest, Kallus grabbed a bandage and, as best as he could without moving him, wrapped it around Zeb’s chest and shoulder, securing the bacta patches in place. When all was done, Kallus slumped back against the devastated wall. Zeb remained on the floor. His chest rose and fell in incrementally slower, deep breaths, stabilized. After a moment, he spoke up again. “M’startin’ to think we s-should’ve stayed back on base,” Zeb joked shakily, straining through the pain.

Kallus rubbed a spot on his forehead where a headache had now grown. "It’s not funny.”

“It's kinda funny." He strained to sit up, but then abruptly flopped back down. “We really gotta work on your bedside manners."

“I’m not encouraging this.” Kallus sighed, secretly relieved just to have Zeb still acting like himself.

Kallus didn't receive a reply back. Peering up, he realized that Zeb had fallen asleep. He appeared tranquil, a hint of a smile on his face. Taking off his jacket, Kallus placed it underneath Zeb's head as a pillow, planting a kiss onto his lips. He returned his back to the wall.

The moment his head reclined, sudden exhaustion and fatigue dawned over. It didn't take long before Kallus dozed off to heavy darkness as well. 

When he awoke, it was abrupt and with a jolt. Around Kallus, the precise, still, orange rays of light cutting through from the cockpit viewport indicated that it was some manner of late afternoon. For a moment, Kallus watched as particles of dust aimlessly descended on their path downward through the rays, finally settling onto the metal in a melancholic finale.

The light shone through Zeb’s fur as he slept, on his back still, and Kallus leaned to sit up. His knee seared, and his joints locked in stiffness. Perhaps his own injuries had been understated earlier.

Fighting through the pain, he checked under the bandages. The bacta had begun to do its job. Yet, was still not enough to properly heal at full potential without more.

Kallus then addressed the other pressing matter at hand: the ship. From his analysis, no chance to repair the _Phantom II_ back to a flyable state seemed plausible. The navigation and computer had been irreversibly damaged. On top of that, the fuel cells in the ion engine were cracked. The ship was useless. Perhaps some of it could have been salvageable, but neither him nor Zeb had the expertise to do so.

His comlink was functioning, but couldn’t connect to any frequencies. As if the signal was able to reach out, yet, didn't have anything to latch onto. To make matters worse, the emergency supplies had been hit hardest in the crash. Kallus found the spare communication devices, yet, when he attempted to turn them on, they remained unresponsive.

He wasn't too worried, however. Hera and the base had record of where they had gone. It was only a matter of time before they realized something went awry, and came to assist.

Since the back ramp was sealed shut, Kallus exited the ship through the viewport of the cockpit, the transparisteel having been shattered in the crash. Outside, a dense jungle of the moon reached out around him, drearily. It was a tropical biome, cramped with warped trees green, purple, and orange. They shimmered uncertainly in the setting sun; leaves rustling with lazy spirit, blockading the wind. Alien bugs and animals chirped and scurried around- teeming with life.

Kallus assessed the crash from the outside. The _Phantom's_ back end was buried into the ground. That explained the door’s inability to function.

As he searched the space around the ship, Kallus noticed something odd: a chronometer lay in the twigs and detritus beside the crash. He curiously picked it up. It was the same type as the one that he wore. Bizarre, albeit, it was the more inexpensive and standard model on the market. While externally, the time-reader appeared intact, it was broken, flashing in a loop between two different sets of neon green numbers: 4.16 and 9.54.

Not thinking much of it for the time being, he stuffed it into his back pocket, and searched around the jungle more.

  
  
  


When Zeb came to, the pain in his chest and shoulder had subsided to a blunt, aching soreness. It was an uncomfortable feeling of weakness, but nothing he hadn’t experienced before, and nothing he couldn’t handle. Karabast, the wonders bacta did.

Zeb knew that the ship had crashed, but his knowledge of the events leading up to it remained slightly foggy. From his memory, there was the peculiar storm, and then, a collision into something. Having fallen into the back of the ship before it happened, he wasn't able to witness what it was that they had exactly crashed into. But, he had sure felt it. Peering backwards, he found that Kallus wasn’t there anymore. Naively attempting to get up, flashes of maroon danced around his eyes, along with biting tingling sensations. He collapsed back onto the floor with a gruff yelp.

At the noise, Kallus’ voice was distantly heard, calling his name. Footsteps shuffled through the sounds of grass, and amber eyes and blond mutton chops appeared through the viewport, or, the lack thereof, eyebrows bunched with concern. “Zeb?” he repeated.

“Yeah, Kal. S’me.”

Kallus cautiously crouched back into the ship. “That sounded worrisome," he observed. "How are you managing?” 

“Oh, m'perfect,” Zeb grumbled. He hated to be seen like this, frail and weak. “Whole day's gone swimmingly.” He tried once again to sit upright. As he held in the hot, static numbness, his head felt as if it would burst.

“Zeb. Stop that. You’ll aggravate it.” Kallus guided him back. 

Seeking to change the subject, Zeb glanced down. “My jumpsuit’s torn up.”

Kallus chuckled, tangling his fingers through the soft, lilac fur on the undamaged side of Zeb’s chest. His ear involuntarily flicked at the touch. “I’m quite certain that’s the least of our worries,” said Kallus. “You still wear half a jumpsuit. And, if I recall correctly, your suggestion earlier had been nothing, 'Bare-azeb'.”

“Oh?” Zeb winced. “Some other motivation for removin' it, then?”

“Let's just agree that it wasn't a detriment."

Kallus leaned in, and the two kissed. Passionate and sweet, lasting a bit longer than expected. Zeb chuckled between soft, worried lips. 

When they pulled away, Kallus' expression had changed, jaw clenched as he glanced sideways. “Zeb," he said. "I thought you were going to die."

Zeb already didn't like where this conversation was heading. “But I didn’t.”

“And conversely, you _could_ have," Kallus reasoned. "It doesn’t change the fact that I failed to react in time. That I should have foreseen that ship coming...”

So _that’s_ what had happened. Zeb was still trying to piece it together. Kallus continued to explain, however, also insisting on blaming himself for everything as he said it. Zeb silenced him by covering his mouth with his hand. He was determined to put a lid on Kallus’ guilty conscience. 

“M'gonna stop you right there,” he said gravely. "You did the best you could. You know that, right?"

“Yes," Kallus immediately replied. It was clear that he was trying to brush him off.

“No. You don't."

Kallus's eyes sharpened, piercing through Zeb's thick skin. Kallus wouldn't win this one. And he knew it. "No, I don't," he conceded. "Maybe, next time, you won't be as fortunate-”

“-Maybe," Zeb cut him off. "It was just an honest accident. An' that's it. No what-if’s. No could-have’s."

Kallus reinforced his gaze, refusing to back down. "There's a delicate line between a small accident and potentially losing you, the thought of which is unfathomable. I can’t allow that to happen by my hands," he said. "Not after..."

 _Not after all the other mistakes I've made in my life_ , Kallus' face seemed to say. He never said it out loud, but Zeb understood.

He hesitated. It was a tricky subject for the both of them. Best to avoid that conversation right now. "I understand," Zeb said faintly. "But, it's not unreasonable to start givin' yourself some credit. We’re still alive. You helped fix this.” He gestured to his bandages. “That wasn't an accident. At least, give yourself... fifty percent of the credit.”

He watched as Kallus listened, expression solid and unmovable as stone. If only Zeb could just break through, if he could erode that hardened exterior...

“That's still too generous," Kallus insisted.

"An argument can be made for forty," Zeb replied. 

A crack shone through. Kallus smiled wanly, perhaps from the absurdity of the topic at debate. “Fine. Amended." He grabbed Zeb's hands, his gloved ones smaller in comparison. "Forty percent of the credit has been taken. No more.”

“And no take-back's," Zeb warned. “It's a verbal agreement.” Even though he knew that Kallus would still remain somewhat unsure, the fact that he could at least smile was progress nonetheless. “Focus up: is this a compromise comin' from your pretty mouth?”

“My mouth’s pretty?” Kallus retorted coyly, a hint of banter returning to his tone.

” _Pretty_ good at doin’ a lot more things than just talkin’,” Zeb said, chuckling.

Kallus rolled his eyes in mock offense. "Yes, it was a compromise. Unprecedented. Unfortunately, you are quite persuasive."

Zeb couldn't exactly excel Kallus' tapestry of vocabulary, but always matched him in wit. “I think the word you were lookin' for was... charmin'?” he tried. “Or even ‘sexy.’”

"How about: a complete dork."

Zeb shook his head. "A _dork_? No. Haven't heard of that one before. Must be thinkin' of someone else." He did his best to grin, knowing damn well that he still looked like a wreck.

Kallus seemed to tell. He sighed and stood up, glancing around the destroyed ship with a sudden expression of deep hopelessness. “Are you in need of anything?” he asked.

"What I need... is a couple of drinks on a sun-dried beach. No, I don't need anythin'. I don't need to be coddled," Zeb insisted. But then, after a moment of contemplation, he changed his mind. “Some water. An' food.”

Kallus nodded knowingly. “Conveniently, I can supply both of those things,” he explained, grabbing a water canteen and ration bars. “So such luck for the drinks or a beach. This is the sum of the salvageables. You need to sit upright if you're going to eat this."

Slowly, tentatively, Kallus helped reposition Zeb so that he could lean his upper torso against the ship wall. Zeb drank the water hastily and then frowned at the ration bars.

Kallus eyed him with an amused look. “There’s a gash through your shoulder and chest, yet you lament about a ration bar?" he teased. "You’re fortunate that you’re cute."

Zeb paused between bites. “M’cute?”

“Quiet as it’s kept, I am- sort of- in love with you,” Kallus replied.

“Oh, so you _are._ Tha’s good to know. Wasn't exactly clear.” It was hard to tell who's sarcasm was better.

Kallus hummed. An ensuing silence followed, thick and uncertain, weighty in the air. Kallus finally spoke up again. “The comlinks won’t connect to the networks, and all other communication devices are unresponsive," he said. "I’m tinkering with them, but I’m not exactly sanguine about their prospects of being useful.”

The gravity of the situation settling over him, Zeb nodded. He set down the food. “Kal. How are we gonna get out of here?” he asked.

Kallus didn't reply right away. He seemed to be lost in thought, thumb lodged under his chin, hand covering his mouth, and eyes staring idly off to the side. Zeb loved the expressions he made when he was thinking. "Yeah?"

"Kal. How are we gonna get out of here?" he repeated. 

"Yes. I heard you. I was contemplating...” Kallus finally broke out of it. “Zeb,” he said. “That ship. The one that flew into us?”

“Mhm?"

“Prior to our collision, I attempted to look into it. For a moment, I thought I saw…” he shook his head. “Never-mind. That was... nonsensical.” He smiled weakly to him.

At the mention of the ship, Zeb remembered something. He caught Kallus' wrist. "Which leads me to my next question. If we hit that other ship, did it land nearby?" he asked.

Kallus squinted his eyes, brow furrowed. "Why hadn't I considered that?" he muttered. It was obvious that Kallus was already berating himself for the oversight. "No, I haven’t seen anything of the sort," he said. Clearing his throat, he then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. "However, I discovered this in proximity to the crash."

He dropped it into Zeb's palm, who brought it close for inspection. He was looking at what appeared to be a standard chronometer, its transparent face reflecting off of the invading beams of sunlight. However, inside, the digital reader was broken. It flickered between two sets of random numbers in a repeated loop: 4.16 and 9.54. “It’s just a broken chrono,” he observed. “Must've belonged to whoever was flyin' that ship.”

Kallus hummed distantly, attention far-away, and brought it back into his pocket. “Zeb," he said. "I'm beginning to suspect that something isn't quite right here.”

Zeb recognized exactly what he was talking about- this unshakable, unrelenting sense of eeriness the moment they had arrived. “I know. I feel it too.” Kallus tightened his grip on Zeb's arm and opened his mouth to say something, expression heavy. “-No," Zeb cut him off. He wasn't sure what Kallus was exactly going to say, but by the look on his face, he knew that it wouldn't have been optimistic. "Stop that.”

“I’m only being realistic,” Kallus reasoned.

“No. You’re not."

“Then, what am I being?”

“You’re being Kal," Zeb said. "Over-thinkin' and brooding all the time." For a moment, he worried that his words had been unintentionally hurtful. He traced a claw down Kallus' lower lip and then nestled into Kallus' abdomen, breathing in the mixture of his scent and the air around. “M'not worried about us," Zeb assured. "We’ll figure it out. Somehow.” 

The scariest thought was that Zeb wasn't even certain he believed himself.

Kallus scratched the back of Zeb's neck and then turned to leave again. "I'll continue to search around," he explained. "I still have some things to mull over. You, need to rest. And I don't care how disgruntled you are about it. If I so much as see you strain yourself in the slightest... I'm forsaking you on this moon."

Zeb made a show of folding his ears back. "That's cold.”

"Warmer than the thought of your injuries worsening,” Kallus replied, voice distant from outside the ship. 

Zeb considered complaining, but then bit his tongue, a barrage of pinprick sensations spreading through his wound. Maybe it was a good idea to rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any feedback/kudos is greatly appreciated!


	3. Clockwork

Three days passed. Was it four? Zeb lost track. No, he had stopped counting. As him and Kallus waited at the crashed _Phantom_ , time seemed to be melting together. As if it was suspended in inactive inertia- dead in the water. No patrols had come to check up on them, not even Hera. Perhaps they were giving it some more time, Zeb reasoned.

No, he hoped.

The injury was still running its course. Kallus’ insistence on Zeb’s idleness paid off in that regard, although, he wouldn’t dare admit it. Zeb was restless, and frustrated to say the least. Forced to sit around while Kallus did all the work. The whole purpose of this mission spat mockingly in his face as his worries grew exponentially.

If it wasn’t for the ever-present dread of being stranded on a remote moon with seemingly no way out, Zeb would say that he wasn’t terribly lousy. The two would rest together when Kallus wasn't searching the jungle and Zeb not tinkering with the communication devices in vain. Often, whenever they became overly bored, they would spice things up to unwind.

Something about the moon felt out of place to Zeb. Eerie. As if they didn’t belong there. There was still no sign of the ship that they had crashed into- their relentless searching to no avail. Simultaneously, Kallus seemed to become more and more quiet. Zeb could practically hear his mind ticking at every passing minute. Thinking. Over-analyzing. But, then again, what was new?

Zeb felt pathetic. He knew Kallus wasn't in a good place- mentally speaking. Yet, Kallus persistently shut down any of his attempts to help. What did that say about Zeb? Was he truly that inadequate a partner to not be able to help him? What should he even say to Kallus? 

For all the time they now had at disposal, Zeb assumed he would've figured it out.

On that fourth day, however, their situation took a turn for the better. Yet, at the same time, for the worse. Zeb sat against the smooth outside flank of the _Phantom,_ fidgeting with his comlink. The faint shuffles of boots through grass indicated that Kallus was approaching.

Kallus wordlessly halted in front of Zeb, head bent down, eyes glued to the enigmatic chronometer in his hand. Zeb watched him for a moment, amused by the contemplative expression on his face and the unkept blond hair that insisted on falling over his eyes at the slight breeze. 

"Zeb," Kallus finally spoke up. “I’ve been giving this a large sum of thought. To its significance." He tossed the time-reader in the air to Zeb, who caught it roughly with a jab of one hand. "Remind you of anything?”

Zeb held his gaze on Kallus for a couple seconds longer, noting how weary he looked, before peering down. His shoulders shrugged. “Remind me of? Dunno. Numbers,” he said dryly.

“Insightful.” Kallus rolled his eyes teasingly. “Zeb, what if it's ciphering something?"

Zeb gave him a dubious look. “Ciphering somethin'? Like... a message?”

“Like a code. I’m only postulating here." Kallus wordlessly opened up his wristband holomap, displaying the projection of their location and coordinates on the moon. It read 37.8 degrees north and 103.5 degrees west.

Zeb’s interest piqued. He sat up and thought. Two numbers on the chrono. 4.16 and 9.54.

_Or, what if they were 41.6 and 95.4?_

“You’re thinkin’ they’re coordinates,” Zeb caught on, considering its validity. Kallus nodded in agreement. 

“Consequently, two questions arise,” Kallus explained. “One: where the coordinates would lead to. And two: why my holomap seems to be under the impression that this moon doesn’t exist in our galaxy." At first confused, Zeb finally caught on- on the display, the positioning of the moon in relation to space was strangely blank. 

Karabast, was Zeb impressed- and a little turned on- by Kallus' ingenuity. "You've been busy," he joked with a chuckle.

"I've been onto something," Kallus corrected, smiling like an excited kit.

The hazy excitement of the discovery washing away, Zeb frowned. He looked again at the chronometer in his palm, remained skeptical. “Kal. Why would someone put coordinates in a chrono? It's too..." _ridiculous? Far-fetched?_ "Convenient."

Kallus nodded faintly. “It does seem rather fortuitous," he agreed. "This isn’t logic, this is… blind, rose-tinted speculation."

Zeb weighed the pros and cons. It wouldn't hurt to at least try. If the numbers were in fact coordinates, the destination was quite close by, roughly about a day and a half worth's journey. The worst that could happen would be a wild bantha-chase. No, the worst that could happen would be if they stayed put longer while precious time was wasted. 

They didn’t need to wait to be saved. Perhaps they could save themselves.

It was a stretch. But, it also wasn't overselling to say that a stretch was still the best luck they'd had in a while. “M'not sayin' it's impossible. We can try," Zeb said. 

Kallus smiled uncertainly. “If you're up to it. Would you consider yourself capable of traveling right now?”

Finally, he was putting faith in Zeb’s judgement. “With you? I'd consider myself capable of doin' anythin',” Zeb answered.

He caught a tinge of softness under Kallus' handsome stoic eyes. They kissed, after a moment, sobered and slowly pulled away. Kallus pet at Zeb's bedraggled fur. “You’re in dire need of a sonic,” Kallus observed. “We both are.” Frowning, his palm fell over the bacta patches. “It's going to scar,” he said somberly.

“S’no damage that hasn’t already been done. Trust me,” Zeb assured, gesturing to the other scars painted across his muscular body. 

Kallus nodded, jawline taut. “As long as you don’t mind. Personally, I find it sexy. That at least eases my conscience.”

Zeb straightened up a bit taller. “Sexy? As in... a _badass warrior_?” 

“I do like the sound of that,” Kallus agreed. He laughed- quiet but genuine- and then returned his fingers to the scars. “They remind me that you’re a fighter," he said in reference to them. "Just as I.” Zeb realized it was the least pessimistic thing Kallus had called himself in quite some time.

Zeb pulled him into a hug, his chin atop Kallus' head, which nestled warmly in the nook of his chest. They held like that for what felt like forever. Perhaps even another day went by. Zeb wouldn’t have known the difference.

He would find a way to talk to Kallus soon. To help him with whatever it was that was plaguing his conscience. He guaranteed himself. 

In the innermost corners of Kallus' heart, the only certainty that he recognized was uncertainty. Quite the paradoxical sentiment- these were curious circumstances, after all. He hadn't the faintest idea of what would be awaiting them at the coordinates. If anything even would be. 

They departed from the crash site early that morning. The travel was tiresome, uneventful. Trekking through the never-ending grasp of the ensnaring jungle- dwarfed by the thickening foliage. Passing through occasional cliff ranges and streams. Kallus insisted on carrying most of the heavyweight: water canteens, food rations, which were dwindling alarmingly in supply.

Leaving the comforting protection of the _Phantom_ proved troublesome, however. They experienced quite a few close encounters with the hostile creatures of the jungle. But, nothing too catastrophic. During the night, they alternated between standing guard while the other slept.

The morning of their fifth day stranded on the moon- second day of traveling- Kallus awoke from his sleep shift with a shudder. Zeb kneeled in front of him. His ears folded back, a solemnness rooted within his intense green eyes and burly facial features.

Zeb sat back. "You were snorin'," he quietly whispered. "S'cute. But, it's also time to go." Jabbing a thumb away, he rose to leave.

It didn’t take long for Kallus to regain full alertness, having been adjusted to the Imperial, and then Rebellion, lifestyle. He rubbed his eyes and checked the holomap on his wristband. They were approximately three-fourths of the way to the destination. Only a couple hours more. They departed from the temporary resting grounds at daybreak, the jungle around drab. Grey. Rain gloomily poured above, either falling onto the pair through openings or barricaded by the trees above, resulting in a soft hollow patter sound. 

After a few hours of walking through the rainy, wet terrain in silence, Kallus in the lead, Zeb cleared his throat.

“Kal…” Zeb started, sounding wary. Kallus winced, already anticipating what he would say. "Talk to me. I never know what's goin' on with you. How are you handlin' all this? The truth. None of this half-assed-secrets kark."

They didn’t face each other as he spoke, continuing to trudge over the winding roots lacing the forest floor. Kallus knew it was futile; Zeb had him pegged. "Nothing," he replied. "I'm an open book."

He heard Zeb stifle a snort. "Please. If you're an open book, I'm a frickin' library. You were in ISB. An' then a double agent. Keepin’ secrets is like second nature to you. Your secrets have secrets.”

The smart-ass. Kallus laughed, assuming that Zeb would continue the playful banter. But then, he didn't, catching Kallus' waist and forcefully jerking him around to face one another.

Zeb looked... livid. His eyebrows angled sharply downward, jaw clenched hard. Kallus had never seen Zeb like that before. At least, never to him. "I'm gonna lose my temper right now," Zeb warned.

Kallus blinked back at him. He had forgotten how intimidating Zeb could be.

"You're gonna be honest with me," Zeb demanded. "Now. Because it's _me,_ Kal. Because, as your partner, it's my duty to make sure that you're okay. Somethin' I know you are _not_ right now."

But the cause for Kallus' racing heartbeat wasn't because of that. No, it was at the mention of honesty. Truth. The very thing he feared and flirted with his whole life as first an ISB agent and then as Fulcrum. “I don't need help, Zeb. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

Zeb's eyes narrowed. “I don’t _care_ what you think. I care about the truth."

The rain picked up, causing Kallus to shiver. The clawed grip on his shirt softened. Zeb's ears drooped dejectedly and he stepped closer to Kallus.

"Help me out, Kal," he pleaded. "My whole life, I've worn my heart on my sleeve. An' so has everyone else around me. Cause keepin' things bottled up doesn't solve anythin'. But then... here comes you. This agent. This spy. Who's afraid to move on. Who keeps the secrets hidden cause he knows he doesn't want to face 'em," he explained.

Kallus knew deep inside that he was right. But, it didn't mean that he had to agree with him. Zeb took in a deep breath, pausing to sniff at something in the air, and then returned his attention to him.

"Kal, this is all too... predictable," Zeb said. "It ends with us apart. Unless we fix it right now. Unless you're honest with me."

"Perhaps you should stop expecting me to be."

The next thing that Kallus recalled happening was a blur of motion whirring by his peripheral vision. It collided into him, and then a heavy weight pinned him down to the ground, pressing his back into the mud.

“Kal!” He heard Zeb’s bo-rifle fire at the creature that had pounced on Kallus. It was a bit smaller than him, four-legged, prickly tan fur, sharp claws.

The creature snarled and snapped at Kallus, trying to bite down on his face. But, Kallus resisted the clutch of its jaws with his hands. Something swung at the animal, the impact causing the weight to loosen slightly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Kallus rolled to the side, and unholstered his blaster. Fired multiple rounds at it. But, the beams were ineffective against its tough hide.

Zeb stood nearby with his bo-rifle in the staff configuration. He wielded it with only one arm as to not re-injure the damaged shoulder. The creature coiled, analyzing the two, and lunged at Kallus again. It swiped at him. Kallus' attempt to dodge failed. It made impact, sending him reeling and temporarily dazed as his head met the ground, and static flashed his vision. 

Momentarily helpless, Kallus watched as Zeb leaped at the animal in rage, tackling it to the ground. A piercing holler of pain cut through the air as Zeb rolled to the side limply. The animal wound up to swipe at him. 

That was, until a new presence emerged from the maze of the jungle, leaping out. The man struck the creature with Zeb's bo-rifle- no, Zeb's rifle still lied on the ground. It was a different bo-rifle. He struck the animal and, in four deft strokes, landed a devastating hit to its jaw. The creature crouched low, slowly contemplating the new contender. It chose wisely- as quick as it came, it fled back into the trees.

So overcome by relief and fear, Kallus scrambled up and limped over to Zeb, who lied on the jungle floor, clutching his chest desperately. He must have reopened the injury when he tackled the animal.

Suddenly remembering the other person among them, Kallus spun around. Aimed his blaster directly at him. “Who are you?" Kallus demanded.

The man was clad in faded dark brown armor, face concealed by a corresponding helmet. He wordlessly approached closer, bo-rifle clattered to the ground, and kneeled beside Zeb. “He needs help,” the man observed, voice distorted through the helmet. “Stand aside. Now,” he instructed. 

Kallus obeyed, and the man unwound Zeb’s bandages, him hissing as droplets of rain hit the reopened wound. Opening up his bag, the armored man removed new bacta patches, replacing the old ones on Zeb, and then wrapped him in a new bandage. As he worked, Kallus watched from close by, finger itching on his blaster. His head and chest still throbbed from the attack. Kallus had gotten clawed on the face; light cuts, nothing terribly deep.

The man then silently stood up and stepped aside, picking up his bo-rifle. Kallus replaced his position next to Zeb and stroked his ear fondly. Zeb grimaced. "Watch out," he said sarcastically. "I think... I think there might be some animal comin'."

Kallus shook his head. "I love you, but, I'm classifying talking as a strenuous activity."

Zeb squeezed his hand softly in assurance, and looked down to notice the blaster still poised in Kallus' hand. "Don't," Zeb whispered. "He helped us."

Like that meant anything. Nodding, Kallus slowly pivoted to face the mysterious man. He couldn't discern what type of armor he wore- not Mandalorian, and definitely not Imperial. “Thank you,” Kallus said modestly. “Who are you?”

The man hesitated, didn't answer the question. “I can't stay," he said. He moved to leave, but Kallus was clever. He already had him figured out- roughly the same size and build as Kallus.

He lunged ahead, yanking the man's arm back and contorting him into a chokehold, blaster crammed to the opening under his helmet. The man seemed to have given up the fight relatively easy, not straining against nor being surprised by Kallus' attack.

"You never answered my question," Kallus hissed, gritting his teeth.

"Kal! Enough!" Zeb pleaded from afar. 

The man appeared unfazed, calm. "I said. I can't stay. Under no circumstances can they see me."

Kallus tightened his hold. "And who the hell are 'they'?"

Flawlessly, the man kicked against Kallus' bad knee, as if he had knowledge of the weakness there. When Kallus' attention was preoccupied, he knocked the blaster out of his hand. Kallus, momentarily crippled, fell to his knees. By the time he glanced up again, the man had vanished. 

He didn't have time to think. Seconds later, a new disturbance was emerging from the foliage up ahead, heavy and clanking footsteps accompanying a blinding searchlight. Abruptly, the outline of a KX-series security droid emerged into view. The light lowered, revealing its dark grey figure, paint faded and rust in some areas. This must've been what the man was referring to.

"Sithspit," Kallus muttered to himself. He immediately held his hands up in surrender, his blaster too far to reach. He glanced to Zeb still lying on the ground. 

But the droid didn't attack. Nor did it seem malicious. It simply stared at him for an uncomfortably long period, as if confused by Kallus. The rain picked up speed, drowning out the silence. After being frozen in contemplation, the droid finally spoke up. “I am D-3AV," it said. "I'm doubtful that it's necessary to ask, but are you in need of assistance?"

"...Yes," Kallus replied in caution. "Yes. We are." He squinted closer at the droid. What appeared to be an Imperial emblem was faded on its shoulder. However, Kallus didn't think it still belonged to the Empire- it would have been significantly more hostile.

The droid approached Zeb. Kallus crouched into alertness, boots pressing into the mud, prepared to charge at any moment. It poked at Zeb's bandages with a robotic finger, earning a warning growl from Zeb. “This was crudely healed," D-3AV asserted bluntly.

“We did the best we could. Can you help him?”

Ignoring him again, D-3AV said, "My scanners picked up three presences in this vicinity. Where is your third companion?"

Kallus hesitated. Zeb answered, finally including himself into the conversation. For reasons Kallus was unsure of why, perhaps gratitude for the armored man or distrust in the droid, Zeb lied. "No," he croaked, then clearing his throat when his voice came out guttural. "No one else was here. Jus' us two."

The droid stared at Kallus for another long moment. "Yes. I can fix the lasat's injury," it finally answered. "But I need to bring you to my base. Medical supplies are there."

Kallus had now limped over to Zeb, falling beside him. Much to Kallus’ disapproval, Zeb insisted on sitting upright, leaning against a tree behind them. He was still uncertain of what to make of everything. Kallus opened up his holomap projection on his wrist. “Does your base happen to be located here?” He pointed to the coordinates they had decoded from the chronometer- about an hour away.

D-3AV approached closer and contemplated it. “Yes. You tipped off our sensors, alerting me of your presence."

One thing was for certain: the chrono was right. Meaning that someone must have purposefully configured it like that and left it near the crash. “And who is it that sent you?" Kallus interrogated. “Did you transmit the distress signal? The signal was rebellion code.”

"I'm afraid my programming forbids me from revealing any further on the subject. We will depart soon. If your companion has the strength.”

Kallus and Zeb exchanged unsure glances. Zeb had a particularly concerned look. “Give us a moment," Kallus demanded. "We need to process."

D-3AV stared blankly at them.

"That means get lost. Kriffin' bucket of bolts," Zeb growled, baring his teeth.

That seemed to do it. The security droid turned, slowly walked away from the clearing. Kallus painfully stood up. Zeb, in a whimper, leaned back further against the tree trunk. He had a look on his face that shown he was just as utterly lost and confused as Kallus was.

“Somethin's up. I'm not buyin' it," Zeb muttered. "The man didn't want to been seen by 'em. For all we know, it could be a trap.”

Kallus hummed in agreement, pacing now. He glanced at Zeb, who had momentarily closed his eyes, chest rising in deep breaths. "I agree," Kallus said. "But... I also strongly object."

One of Zeb's eyes flew open. "To what? I haven't even said anythin' yet."

Kallus continued to pace. "You chose to cover for the man, whoever he was. Which indicates that you trust him."

Zeb sat up. "Are you sayin' that you _don't_?"

"I'm saying that he wasn't exactly amiable," Kallus explained. "He also had a bo-rifle, and didn't happen to be a lasat." Kallus was aware that he had once owned a bo-rifle too. But, that was exactly his point. He was a heartless Imperial bastard at the time. That didn't help the case. 

"Gimme a break, Kal. Why did he save our lives?” 

Kallus considered this. He _did_ save their lives. Something that couldn't be dismissed out of hand. Yet, Kallus was still not raring to trust him completely. “I hear you,” he admitted.

Zeb frowned. "But..."

"But, what?"

"Usually, when you start sayin' stuff like that," Zeb explained. "There's a 'but' involved." Time and time again, Kallus was undermined by how ridiculously intuitive Zeb was. He knew him too well. Zeb gestured to the direction D-3AV had gone. "What, you trust the tin-can more?"

No, he didn't trust the droid more. He didn't trust anyone. Perhaps it was rational intuition. Or compulsive paranoia. He shook his head. "No. I don't trust him either."

Zeb chuckled. “Has anyone ever told you that you overthink things?” 

“No, not really. Why? Did someone say that? Who?” Kallus answered ironically. 

As Kallus spoke, Zeb continued to chuckle. He stood up with a painful huff and shuffled over to him, grabbing his hands. "Kal. Remember Bahryn?" he asked. "When I was climbin' out of that cave, an' you chose to help instead of shootin' me?"

Kallus was thrown off guard by the change in topic. "I don't see how this relates to the discussion at hand."

"Well, I do. You told me that in that moment, it wasn't logical. It didn't make any sense. It was just a gut feelin'. You did what you knew was right," Zeb explained. "I don't know why, but _that's_ how I feel about this... guy. This... protector? I could be wrong. But, it's jus' a gut feelin'. To trust him."

"That's how you feel?" Kallus confirmed.

"Yes. Honestly. That's how I feel."

Kallus frowned. He remained unsure. But, if Zeb said so, he trusted his judgment. "Okay," Kallus agreed. "But, we shouldn't be making any split decisions until all our options are considered. For now, we follow the droid. I don't think we're in any position to have a choice on that matter anyway. And, if it turns out to be bad news..."

Zeb nodded. "...Then we rip its circuits out." He squeezed Kallus' hands in an appearance of confidence, but Kallus wasn't sure he was any more certain about any of this than himself.

Kallus just needed to find a way to get them off of this moon. Somehow. And, whatever lengths it would take to do so, Kallus was game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any feedback/kudos is greatly appreciated!


	4. Afraid of Time

Part of Kallus feared that following the security droid had been the wrong move. But, then again, they didn't have many options. So, Kallus dimmed out these thoughts, shelving them into the unlit depths of his mind. He had everything under control. Or, at least, naively thought so.

The journey spanned only an hour more, D-3AV in the lead. Zeb and Kallus hadn't communicated much along the way, too apprehensive of the droid overhearing. They shot each other reassuring glances every so often. Many times, Kallus would peek back and catch Zeb wincing, grabbing his chest. He would quickly avert his eyes away. Zeb was sensitive about being seen like that.

As shadows against the backdrop of twilight, they neared the eventual destination. A black structure rolled into view. Kallus checked his coordinates. Exactly where the chrono led. Closer to it, the jungle opened up into a rocky valley, the jagged terrain meandering under a darkening purple sky.

"Home sweet home," D-3AV explained. The house had an unsymmetrical rounded shape, not exactly short but also not tall. Now that they were closer, it appeared crudely made, as if constructed from scraps of random durasteel and other metals. There was no ship in sight. Not a good sign for their chances of leaving. A quaint satellite dish protruded from the top of it, where the signal must have been sent.

The trio wordlessly mounted the steps leading to the entrance. Beckoning for them to follow inside, D-3AV punched in a code for the door. Kallus memorized the code, but a pin on it in the back of his mind.

Taking a moment to adjust their eyes- Kallus more so than Zeb- the two entered. The interior had the look of a home: a cooking fireplace, tools, a bench, a rickety purple table handcrafted out of trees. The first floor covered the entire volume of the lower level, and a ladder in the middle led up into an out-of-view loft. The lit fire illuminated the room in swimming shadows as dusk fell outside. 

"I'll fetch the medical supplies and the boss. He'll give you answers where I can't," D-3AV explained. At the mention of someone in charge, Zeb and Kallus gave an immediate apprehensive gaze to one another. Climbing up the ladder with metallic clanks, the droid disappeared into the upper loft. "Feel free to seat yourselves."

Kallus wasn't sure if it was an offer or a demand. It was safer to comply. Seeing that the table only had one accompanying chair, Kallus pulled it out and politely gestured for Zeb to sit. Zeb, however, dissuaded him with the wave of his hand and sat criss-cross on the floor beside the table.

Kallus almost made a comment, but then bit his tongue. He hesitantly sat down in the chair and looked around the home snobbishly. Almost every available surface was covered in tinkered machinery and gizmos, strewn about without apparent rhyme or reason. “One thing's for certain,” Kallus whispered. "This person. Whoever they are. They're-"

“A slob,” Zeb answered, crinkling his nose. He already had that wild look in those green eyes he always got when around untidiness, a by-product of his strict Honor Guard Days. "They're a slob. I think that's the word you were lookin' for."

Kallus let out a tempered chuckle. "Actually, I was thinking, 'unkempt'. But, yeah. Slob's applicable. If not, better."

He smiled, amused by how similarly opinionated him and Zeb were. Zeb frowned, scratching his beard, and sniffed the air loudly. "Kal," he said in a whisper. "It smells like..."

A rumpus was heard up in the loft, and the two turned their attentions to it in response. Someone was descending the ladder. Boots stepped down the rails, following the backside of a human male. "My apologies for the inhospitality," a familiar, deep, rich, accented voice rang through the air. "I was having quite the nap."

"...You," Zeb finished his sentence slowly. "It smells like you."

A pit opened up in Kallus' stomach as he watched another Kallus descend down the ladder and face them; hair buzzed short, a diagonal scar cut across his face. This other Kallus froze, slack-jawed.

"Well, sithspit," he muttered. "D-3 said there was something interesting about you. But, I never expected this."

Zeb knew that he had picked up Kallus' scent on the droid from the moment they had first met him. But, he never trusted himself to believe it. After all, who in their right mind would believe such a thing?

But now, standing before them was another Kallus, clear as day. Surely he wasn't the same one. No, he was quite different. His left arm was entirely cybernetic. On his face resided a very prominent scar, his clothes shabby and worn. He had the appearance of someone who lived in a jungle on a remote moon. Figured.

Instantaneously, the three armed themselves, aiming their weapons at one another, Zeb and Kallus two against one. "What is this?" Kallus demanded. "Start answering. Now. We have no compunction about getting our hands dirty..."

The other Kallus didn't back down. "I can say the same thing to you, asshole."

Zeb growled, protective now. "Don’t call him asshole, asshole! Or I'll blast ya a new one!”

"No one has to blast anything... I don't intend any harm."

"Yeah? Kark off-" Zeb started but then paused, just now processing the other Kallus' words. "Wait. You _don't_ want to kill us?"

"No! _You're_ the ones pointing blasters at me!"

"Okay, everyone calm," Zeb mediated. "We're fine. Everythin's fine. Right?" He glanced at Kallus, still tense. "Kal. At ease. I'm tryin' to give a meiloorun branch here. A truce.”

”The phrase is an ‘olive branch’," Kallus corrected off-hand.

”Same difference.”

"No, not really.”

Zeb turned to him in exasperation. “M'sorry- whose side are you on? I’m tryin’ to save our skins! Feels like I'm the only one.”

The three of them, Zeb, Kallus, and the other Kallus, lowered their weapons. They silenced and contemplated each other warily for what felt like an entire rotation, cycling through shock, denial, bewilderment, and then finally, acceptance. 

The other Kallus- Zeb decided to call him 'Kallus-B'- was the first one to speak again. "Well," he said slowly. "The name's Kallus. I fear it's a bit redundant to ask, but, you are?"

"Kallus," Kallus answered, refusing to back out of his piercing gaze.

Kallus-B nodded his head for a long moment. He then turned, maintaining eye-contact with Kallus for as long as possible before meeting Zeb's eyes. "But you," he said, now unashamedly eyeing Zeb's bare chest, the upper torso of his jumpsuit having been torn from earlier. "I'm not certain we've met before." His speech was significantly looser than Kallus', less refined, rough around the edges.

No, this was certainly _not_ his Kal. How could he not know Zeb? "M'Zeb," Zeb spoke up in a grunt. 

"D-3AV mentioned an injured lasat. I have medical supplies. Surely we can work some magic on you. D-3!" he called, shouting up into the loft. "Come down here and help our friend out! What the hell is he doing up there? Kriffin droid..." He faced Zeb again. "We detected a ship entering our atmosphere five days ago. I assume that was you?"

Zeb nodded silently.

"Yeah. We weren't exactly itching to check it out," Kallus-B explained. "Haven't had much luck with that lately. But, when D-3's security scanners detected your signatures approaching us, he decided to take a look." As he spoke, D-3AV returned into view descending down the ladder, medical supplies in hand. 

Kallus cautiously eyed the droid, quiet as a ghost.

"Uh, if you want, how about you just lie down over there," Kallus-B instructed, ushering Zeb to a bench lodged against the wall.

Zeb obeyed as D-3AV approached closer, taking off his bandages and mending the wound with the proper methods and supplies- disinfectants, stronger bacta patches. Luckily, the temporary patches that the armored man from the jungle had given them had numbed the area, so Zeb didn't feel a thing.

Kallus-B stood by watching. "Sithspit, where are my manners today?" He shook his head. "You need anything? Food?”

“Please," Zeb answered. 

“Soup okay for you? It's vegan."

Zeb nodded vaguely, attention preoccupied on analyzing Kallus. He couldn't discern what he was thinking; Kallus' face remained as infuriatingly stoic as stone. Calculating. As he always was.

Kallus-B headed to his fireplace and removed a pot that had been stewing over it. "I apologize if I'm being overbearing," he said. "Haven’t had visitors in... ever. Yeah. I’ve never had visitors." He poured the soup into bowls and excitedly handed them to Zeb and Kallus. "Well, at least not the friendly type."

The droid finished his work and Zeb sat up, instinctually rubbing his chest. The wound was now resealed, leaving only a scar there. He hadn't the faintest notion of numbness or soreness in the area. 

They both took sips from the soup. To say that it was awful would be considerate- Zeb's body tried to repel the food, but he swallowed it back down thickly. “S’ good,” Zeb croaked, animatedly jabbing a thumbs up. Kallus was still stony-faced. "What is that, boontaspice?"

Kallus-B nodded. "Sure is. I am quite the fan."

"Yeah. Clearly a little too much," Zeb muttered to himself. Thankfully, no one else heard but Kallus, who discretely huffed through his nose.

A long silence fell, thick in the air. Finally, Kallus-B broke through it. "You’re both rather close-mouthed, aren’t you?" he asked. "You aren’t pirates, right? Or anything of that nature?”

Zeb took a look at the crappy junk around them. Who in their right mind would ever want to steal from here? “...No,” Zeb replied. 

“I assumed as such. But, believe you me, you never know. Like I said, we've been unfortuitous in our visitors. Recently, some people came and stole not only my ship, but also this antique armor of mine. Spent a lot of credits on that.” He shook his head, wistful. That was an interesting development- perhaps the armor in question had been stolen by the mystery man from the jungle. 

Kallus cleared his throat, seeming to finally shake himself out of his reclusive daze. “Listen, we appreciate the hospitality-”

“-No problem!”

Kallus' eyes flared in annoyance. This other Kallus was _certainly_ not like Kal, who looked like he was about ready to lose it. "I'm sorry," he said, pinching his brow. "But _how_ is this happening? Does this faze you? In the slightest?"

Kallus-B paused, nodding. "I'm still attempting to wrap my mind around it," he admitted. "You're me. But, you're also not me. Are you even me?"

"Yes!" Kallus exclaimed. "My name is Alexsandr. I grew up on Coruscant, in the lower levels..." He ran through a quick overview of his life, as if to see for any comparisons or deviations between the two. Everything matched up relatively the same.

That was, until the mention of defecting from the Empire. 

"Woah. Woah. Stop," Kallus-B held his palms up. "I was following until you veered way off course about this Vulcrum, is it? Fulcrum. You _joined_ the Rebellion?" he asked in complete confoundment.

Zeb sucked in his breath, exchanging anxious glances with Kallus. "You didn't?"

Kallus-B shook his head as if they were speaking another language. "No. Are you kidding? Leaving the Empire? Are you sure you're me?"

 _He was still Imperial._ From his peripheral vision, Kallus tensed. Zeb did the same, claws out and ready to attack. Kallus-B caught on, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. He still had the keenness of this Kallus. "Don't worry," he assured cautiously. "I'm not one for old politics. There's none of that left here."

Zeb frowned. He thought that he claimed to have never left the Empire. "I thought you said-"

"I did say I never left it. And I didn't," Kallus-B answered. "The Empire fell. Two years ago. The Rebellion formed quickly, swiftly overpowered them. When the New Republic took over, they began arresting all Imperial sympathizers. I came here to escape them, took D-3 with me. After spending all this time here alone, I realize that I care not for the insignificance of politics anymore."

 _Karabast. The Empire fell? Two years ago?_ From the moment they made eye contact with this other Kallus, Zeb had already begun forming a possible explanation for all of this. But now, it seemed to be more truth than possibility. It was insanity, but it was also the only logical explanation to an illogical situation. "Kal," Zeb said, glancing to Kallus. "I'm beginnin' to think we're not in our galaxy anymore."

Kallus pursed his lips. "Perhaps an understatement. I figured." He sighed, rubbing his forehead and covering his face with his hands in thought. "So, what is this? We've fallen into an alternate universe?"

"It's possible," D-3AV spoke up. Zeb startled, having forgotten that the droid was still standing there beside him. "Inter-dimensional travel," it explained, sharing a look with Kallus-B.

Kallus nodded. "The storm," he said. "When we arrived, I thought we had flown into a storm. I don't want to deem it 'supernatural', but, it was. It tipped off our fly-by wire, which leads me to believe that gravity was somehow involved."

"Gravitational anomaly," Kallus-B explained. "Have you ever researched quantum physics?" he asked them with a heavy sigh.

Zeb gave him a dull look. "Sure. I call it a light readin'," he joked. Kallus hummed lightly. "No. No, we haven't."

"Barely enough to term ourselves competent," Kallus added.

Kallus-B nodded his head, gesturing to the piles of machinery throughout the room. "Recently, D-3 has... spotted gravitational anomalies emerge on this moon. Mostly small distortions in our instruments. We've been attempting to figure out why. But, if what you're saying is true, the gravity indicates a disturbance in timespace. The day you crashed, we received the biggest reading yet. It's highly improbable, a cosmic fluke."

"Then how did it happen?" Zeb asked.

"He said improbable. Not impossible," Kallus corrected and Zeb drooped his ears a little bit.

Zeb felt completely out of his element, and knew that his Kallus was too. Their fortes were along the lines of strategy and military tactics. But, he stubbornly wanted to contribute to the conversation nonetheless. "Wormholes. Isn’t that like hyperspace?" he tried.

"Sort of," D-3AV answered. A flutter of pride spread in Zeb's chest and he peeked to see if Kallus was impressed. Kallus winked at him.

The droid explained that it was the same principles, but different application, since wormholes could theoretically create gateways into different universes. It would answer a lot. Why the holomap display claimed that the moon didn't exist. Why the comlinks couldn't connect to any of the frequencies. Why Hera hadn't come searching for them. They were in a different galaxy entirely.

"However, I was under the impression that a wormhole isn't a naturally occurring phenomenon," Kallus-B pointed out. "And that's the problem. It means that someone, or something, had to have placed it there on purpose."

Kallus leaned forward, thumb under his chin. "Who?"

They shrugged their shoulders.

"So, why send the distress signal?" Kallus prodded. "And how did it reach our universe if our coms can't even connect back? We were sent here to find someone."

"...We never sent anything."

The four of them silenced in contemplation. Zeb's stomach rumbled, and he ashamedly ate more the barely-touched, now cold, soup. He pointed to Kallus-B. "How do you know all this stuff? About the... spacetime thingy."

"It's all been D-3," he explained, shrugging his shoulders. “Had a lot of research stored in its databank."

"You know," Kallus warned. "You're taking a real risk using ex-Imperial machinery for security. Their control units are unpredictable. Especially as they age."

Kallus-B smiled and patted the droid with genuine affection. "I'm aware. But, D-3's the only thing I've had for two years." He seemed saddened by that, and Zeb felt a ping of pity for him. He shook out of his thoughts. "Whatever that wormhole was, it vanished from our sensors shortly after. If we're to find a way to send you back, it would be via opening it again."

"Do you think you can do that?" Kallus asked.

Kallus-B shook his head. "I mean, we're talking about opening up gateways across dimensions. We have fragments of data, but I don't know if it's possible."

"No," Zeb said. "We'll make it possible. We always do." He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince them or himself. 

Kallus-B smiled. "We'll need to quantify more data from the disturbances. Pool all of our minds in for this, hash it out." He yawned. "I for one, barely have the energy to stand right now. I'm going to hit the sack. For tonight, try and get some rest- I'm sure it's been quite the few days for you two." He paused. "Uh, I suppose you can configure two sleeping arrangements..."

"No," Zeb insisted, without skipping a beat. "No, we sleep together."

Kallus-B paused humorously and swiveled his head back and forth between the two. It finally seemed to click. "Oh. Oh..." He nodded, winked at Kallus. "He's quite the catch. See you in the morning. Sunrise, pronto."

He climbed up the ladder and disappeared into his loft. 

Zeb was utterly lost- mind spinning with too much to think about. D-3 had given him and Kallus some homemade blankets to lie with on the floor. 

For the first time, there seemed to be hope of finding a way off of that dreaded rock. And it was obviously bleeding into their moods. They didn't speak the whole night, too much on their minds, but a collective calm hung in the air between the two.

Kallus yawned tiredly, face buried in Zeb's neck. Before Zeb dozed off, he felt those soft lips mouth 'I love you' onto the skin there, and a warm, hair-dotted chest tighten closer to his back in uncertainty. Zeb grabbed onto his smaller, rough hands, an iron grip that stayed there until the morning.

At the first crack of dawn, the two Kallus' departed from the house to collect data from the disturbances. Zeb elected to remain behind- before Kallus made an argument about him exerting his still-tender injury. D-3AV spent the time outside, maintaining the power generator.

With nothing to do, Zeb decided to rummage throughout the house. He wasn't bothered by the fact that he was being nosey. It was mostly useless junk: gizmos and raw materials. However, for all the things this other Kallus hoarded, he didn't seem to have any interest in personal keepsakes or mementoes.

Up in the loft, there was a communication device connected to the satellite dish. Zeb paused, an idea forming.

He sat down in the makeshift chair there, flicking the switches on the machine to an audio message, and connected it to the _Ghost's_ channel. He knew it was futile. The signal would never reach another galaxy. But, something about it promised to soothe Zeb's conscience.

The recording turned on. The whirs of machinery spun and sputtered loudly. Zeb tapped on the small speaker. “Um. Hey General Syndulla," he spoke into it sheepishly. He cleared his throat. "If you find this, _somehow_ , don’t share it with S'bine. It’s gonna to be a real sob-fest. She'll never let me forget it." He scratched at his neck, gathering his thoughts. "There's a possibility we might be able to find a way out of here," he continued. "Who knows if it'll work. Got help from some other people. S'a long story. You'd like one of them, he's uh, he's pretty similar to Kal. But, not really. Heh. To think, I could barely handle one of 'em..."

A sudden hopelessness washed over Zeb's chest.

"I jus' want you to know, that we're fine," he said. "Everything's fine. We'll find a way back. We always will. But, if we don't... I guess I'll see you on the other side. An' give the kit a hug from Uncles Zeb and Kal when he comes." Sniffling, he looked back to the small blinking red button. "M'sorry-"

He shut off the recording, burying his face in his tired hands. However, a slow beeping noise emanated from the machine. Zeb peeked up, to find the button that indicated a received signal blinking. _Did the message go through?_

A metallic clank made a presence known, and Zeb spun around, blinking his eyes to try and fend off the redness growing there. It was D-3AV, staring at him. "What? Run outta circuits?" Zeb spat in embarrassed anger. " _Kriff yourself._ Before I crush ya like a trash compactor."

D-3AV didn't reply, continuing to stare at him blankly.

It felt... strange. Eerie. A pit opened up in Zeb's stomach, filled in with pouring dread. He stood up fast. “Wait-” 

-The droid lurched at him, and Zeb countered, unholstered his bo-rifle and blocked the attack. D-3AV, ridiculously strong, slapped him across the face, projecting him into the wall. Zeb slumped down.

Something fired at D-3AV's shoulder, causing it to turn around. At the split opening, Zeb scrambled across the floor towards where the shots originated.

Jumping down from the upper loft into the lower level, Zeb met his protector. It was the armored man again, shooting his bo-rifle sparingly at D-3AV's arms and legs, as to not hit any vital parts. Zeb aimed his to fire as well, but the armored man blocked his arm. "Don't!" he instructed, voice distorted. "Don't shoot. We need it."

Karabast did _anything_ make sense here? He didn't have time to ask as D-3AV clambered down closer towards them. 

"We can't outrun it," the man explained. He spun Zeb around. "Follow me. Now." 

Facing them was now a looming, blackened sphere. Before Zeb could wrap his mind around _what the kriff was happening_ , the man pulled him closer to it by the hand. As he neared the sphere, the view of a jungle swung through at the other end, like a large shaving mirror. It was extremely disorienting.

As he was dragged in, Zeb was shocked to discover that the lens had no surface, only passing into a distortion of his own warped reflection. His vision was engulfed by darkness. 

To say that Kallus still had reservations about this other Kallus was an understatement. How could he trust anyone, let alone an alternative version of him, when he didn't even trust himself?

Even if Kallus-B was truly harmless, he was _irritating_. Where Kallus was reserved, this other Kallus was relentlessly talkative. However, not in Zeb's way. Zeb's form of talkative was charming and endearing, an expression of his open-hearted personality. Kallus-B was arrogant and self-centered. He would lecture about quantum physics and things that Kallus frankly cared not for.

He was almost embarrassed to consider themselves the same person. 

The two trekked through the ensnaring grasp of the jungle, Kallus-B's nose buried into his gravitational disturbance scanners.

Just when Kallus had the blissful release of five minutes of silence, the other Kallus spoke up again. "So," he began. "I feel a need to address the bantha in the room. I have to admit, I was surprised when... Zeb? Yeah, Zeb. The name almost slipped my mind there. I was surprised when I realized you two were together. You _are_ together, correct?"

Kallus smiled vaguely, still refusing to let up the sharpness in his eyes. "Yes. Yes, we are, officially, for a couple of months now."

"Must be nice. He's not too bad to look at."

Kallus nodded. Now, he was a pinch curious. Even if he didn't entirely trust this Kallus, he might as well have fun with this peculiar scenario while he could. "What makes you surprised?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Kallus-B answered. "I never considered the possibility of me finding anyone. Ever. It's reassuring. A hope that maybe, one day, I'll meet my Zeb. If I ever leave this rock."

"And why haven't you?" Kallus asked, genuinely curious.

"This place has grown on me. When I came, I never anticipated the serenity that isolation would bring. The calmness of being in nature. And now that I'm here, the truth is, I don't ever want to leave. But, I'm glad for you. You got your man for that, I'm sure."

Kallus smiled weakly.

"You know, after what happened with Onderon and Lasan, I wondered how you two managed to work it out," he continued, approaching overstepping his boundaries. "I'm sure that it's not easy. Not to add insult to injury..."

Kallus paused. Perhaps this was the remedy that he needed: to talk to someone who would understand his struggles, and maybe help him through it. After all, who would know Kallus better than himself? 

Chest tense, Kallus nodded. Time to be honest. "I suppose. Zeb... I don't deserve him," Kallus said, openness forming a foreign taste in his mouth. "My past, _our_ pasts, don't exactly make it easy. Zeb and I can't see eye to eye on it. He seems to think that I can move on, but..."

Kallus-B stopped, giving him a sympathetic frown, hands clasping his shoulders. "I understand. Without condemning. Truly, I do."

All Kallus could muster was a nod. "We should keep moving," he said, retreating back into his shell. "Mustn't waste more time."

With a nod of commiseration, they began making their way across the jungle once more. So overcome by repressed emotion, Kallus realized how vulnerable he had made himself. How readily he had let his guard down. He went back on active duty.

Kallus shook his head. "The distress signal that the Rebellion received," he said. "The one that brought us here. Someone must have sent it..." They passed by a tree that appeared eerily familiar. 

"I'm not sure," Kallus-B answered dismissively.

Kallus looked around. "How much further?" 

"Oh, not too far," he replied, eyes glued to the scanner before halting to a stop.

Kallus followed suit. Some more familiar scenery surrounded them. Deja vu. Kallus squinted his eyes. _Were they going in circles?_ "Allow me to take a look..." He grabbed the scanner out of his hands.

"You know," Kallus-B began. "I always knew there was a possibility of opening a bridge into an alternate universe. But, I never assumed it would have worked." As he spoke, a polished, refined, cold sharpness to his accent seemed to be returning. Kallus froze, realizing that the device in his hands was entirely blank.

_It was a trap._

He didn't have time to react before the brutal impact of fist collided into his jaw. Kallus stumbled back, holding his face. No time to think, Kallus shook out of his daze at just the right moment to counter Kallus-B' next swing. He caught his hand. The two held, straining against each other's crude strength.

"What are you doing?" Kallus shouted.

He didn't reply. Kallus attempted a few hits, but was unsuccessful as well. Their fighting patterns were far too evenly matched. The only way to win would be to outlast, too risky to attempt.

Switching up, Kallus abandoned technique altogether and ruthlessly grabbed his shoulders. Kallus-B did the same and the two locked onto one another. "You... you lied," Kallus grit his teeth. "Why?"

"You're surprised?" 

"No. No, not really."

In a heave, Kallus threw his weight to the side, smashing the other Kallus into a tree. He did it again into the other direction, sending both stumbling to the side. After a strained breath, Kallus unholstered his blaster and aimed. But, Kallus-B had already done the same, in a stand off.

Not lowering his weapon, Kallus spat to him, "You decieving bastard."

"Yes," Kallus-B replied in a sneer. And in that moment, Kallus finally recognized that face. The familiar expression of self-righteous pride, of ruthless zeal and need for control. This man truly was Kallus, only, the ISB Agent, not the Rebel. "But at least I'm not a coward," he said. "At least I have loyalty to my Empire. How _dare_ you betray them. How _dare_ you masquerade to be a 'redeemed', 'righteous' man, when it couldn't be further from the truth. You can't escape from the past. And you'll never leave its current. You. Are. Out of time." 

As he spoke, Kallus slowly stumbled over. "Do you ever stop talking?"

He leaped forward, knocking the blaster out of Kallus-B's hand. Tackling him down, the two wrestled. They were like two ants on a sheet, tiny insignificant figures in the vastness of the jungle around. Deciding the judgement of Alexsandr Kallus' heart with a _brawl_.

Kallus was too overwhelmed to think. To not notice the other man grab the blaster lying beside them before it was too late, and a shot rang through the air. In shock, Kallus dropped his grip. Glanced down to the blaster wound now in the side of his abdomen. He collapsed flat to the ground, head spinning in shock and pain. 

Kallus-B stood up, picking the other blaster off of the ground.

"I thought- I thought you said the Empire fell," Kallus breathed.

"Only on the surface. It's still underneath, as fragments, rising from the dead," he explained. "D-3 and I were tasked to research on new technology here. Super-weapons in spacetime. I thought we had figured it out, but as you know, the gateway shut itself off... we haven't been successful again."

Kallus didn't respond, clutching his side as his vision slowly blurred reddish rouge. Kallus-B moved to walk away, before stopping and turning around.

"Do you feel it? The instinct to fight, to survive?” he sneered. “That's the thing about us. We're fighters. Fight your way out of this one." His apparition walked away from the scene, disappearing into the jungle.

Flashes of scenes flickered in Kallus' mind's eye as he fought to survive. The warmth of Zeb on Bahryn. The night they confessed their feelings to one another. The sound of Zeb snoring beside him. The feel of his fur. The softness as they kissed, and every breath they drew. He saw it all, a collage of everything he fought for to stay alive. To keep that instinct.

They were so vivid, so real, that he could've heard Zeb's voice. No, he did hear Zeb's voice, and the blurry figure of his face. Above, the distinct shape of the _Ghost_ descended towards them from the sky. Kallus felt himself be picked up by Zeb. The hissing of a lowering ramp was heard, alongside approaching footsteps. 

"Need a lift?" the unmistakable voice of Kanan Jarrus rang through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any kudos/feedback is greatly appreciated- your support keeps me going!


	5. The Other Crew

As Zeb submerged into his own distorted reflection, pulled by the armored man into the sphere to flee from the security droid, his vision went dark. However, it quickly became apparent that it wasn’t black that Zeb was perceiving. Rather, an absence of visibility altogether; all light drained. A disorienting sensation of weightlessness. Then, as abruptly as he entered, Zeb was suctioned out at the other end, as if falling sideways.

Greens, browns, and blues swept back into view in a fashion very similar to stars condensing after hyperspace. The moon's jungle formed around them, the trees creaking carelessly.

Zeb clumsily collapsed on top of the armored man. Caught his breath. Panting. The man was saying something, but incomprehensible, muffled under Zeb’s weight.

“Heh. Sorry.” Zeb’s fur ruffled in embarrassment, and he heaved himself upright. The man gasped for air, the wind knocked out of him.

Turning around, Zeb found that the sphere- he was confident enough to assume that it had been a miniature wormhole- had now vanished. They were no longer in Kallus-B's home, evading the droid that was after them. To Zeb's right, strewn onto the ground was the man’s bo-rifle.

Zeb turned back around, about to ask the millions of questions skipping through his mind, before discovering a third person in their midst within the jungle. It was Kallus, collapsed on the brown soil in a heap. They must have been transported to his location. Kallus-B nowhere to be found. 

Zeb bolted towards him. “Kal! Karabast!” he shouted, falling beside.

Kallus was still breathing. In staccato, rapid breaths. He seemed to recognize Zeb’s presence. Looking down, Zeb found the blaster wound in his abdomen.

"The last of my supplies," the armored man said from afar, stoic helmet somehow expressing helplessness. "I expended on you." He spoke more. However, his words were suddenly drowned out by a roaring hum. Above, a ship entered the fringes of the moon’s atmosphere. Zeb followed the source of the noise, hand shielding his eyes from the sunlight.

Zeb's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't believe it.

Sweeping across pale blue skies, the miniature abstract of the _Ghost_ grew, approaching them. In elated shock, Zeb hollered. He blinked cautiously, dreading the moment the ship evanesced like some ill-fated illusion.

It never did, continuing to fly nearer. "Some friends of mine!" Zeb shouted in explanation to the man. He hadn't the faintest notion of how Hera had found them, but didn’t dare question it. As long as it meant that he and Kallus departed from that kriffing moon.

The ship paused to the side of overhead, a shadowed underbelly. Around, the air picked up from the sheer force of the engines, causing Zeb to stumble back a bit. With a strain, he lifted Kallus up into his arms.

The armored man walked up beside Zeb, waiting. "Thank you," Zeb said earnestly, overcome by exhilaration and relief. "That's twice you've saved our skins. I need to start returnin' the favor."

The man chuckled, voice distorted in his dark brown helmet as the _Ghost_ landed, flattening the surrounding trees with thudding snaps. "No need for counting. Truly. Only saving myself."

"Your name. You've never given your name. I've taken up callin' you 'My Protector'."

He nodded, paused for a second. Contemplating. "It's Laluk," the man answered. _Laluk._ Zeb couldn't say that he was familiar with that one.

A few seconds passed, stretching on forever in antsy anticipation. Finally, the ship's airlock released with a hiss, and the ramp lowered. However, it wasn’t Hera who greeted them. Zeb's smile waned. He almost dropped Kallus to the ground. _No, it couldn’t be-?_

It was.

Each thud of Kanan Jarrus' boots as stepped down the ramp seemed to crescendo and slow down in time more and more as Zeb’s mind spun out of control, watching slack-jawed in awe.

Kanan appeared exactly how Zeb remembered him. From his brown pony-tail, beard, and down-to-earth eyes. _Ashla, his eyes_. _Kanan wasn’t blind._ And his clothes were unfamiliar to Zeb: monochromatic maroon leather, a very complimenting color on him, and quite the suave look.

“Need a lift?” Kanan asked, a hand outstretched. He bunched his eyebrows, as if confused by Zeb, but willing to help nonetheless. Zeb only gawked at him, wild-eyed. _Kanan was still alive._ No, Zeb knew better than to even court that idea. Kanan was gone in his universe.

 _In his universe._ _It wasn't Zeb's Ghost that had found them._

Whereas Zeb's mind locked into autopilot, the world around marched past at break-neck speed. “Is that a yes or no?” Kanan asked, not dropping his charismatic, yet subtly saddened grin. “Because we don’t have much time here, buddy.” 

Zeb considered Kallus in his arms. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat, and numbly clambered up the ramp. The armored man- Laluk- behind. “He needs help,” Laluk explained, in reference to Kallus. “Blaster wound on his abdomen.”

They raced into the ship. Kanan sealed the ramp, an air of restlessness to him. He squinted at Kallus for a moment, quizzical. "Hera!” he spoke into his comlink. “We got them. It's him. It's really him. Now let’s get this show on the road before unwelcome company arrives.”

 _Who was unwelcome company_? Zeb decided that it wasn't paramount to know at that moment. He at last regained his voice. "Listen, this is gonna sound strange, but-"

He hadn't finished his sentence before the voice of a young woman cut him off, uncharacteristically tentative. "Zeb?" The source: a young Mandalorian at the entry of the loading bay. Sabine. Her hair and armor were dyed in colors Zeb hadn't seen her wear before. 

Sabine had spoken meekly, awestruck, a stark derivation to her self-assured disposition. She looked... lost. 

"It's you..." a new voice joined the medley, belonging to a younger boy. "It's really you." 

Zeb's heart fractured, a thousand pinpricks to it at once.

_Ezra._

The young Jedi stood adjacent to Sabine. _Still with the Ghost. Not missing with Thrawn._ His jet-black hair was short, hopeful blue eyes wide and puffy. In the same style of outfit that Kanan wore. Ezra looked about just as much of an emotional wreck as Sabine did. If not, more so.

Chopper was anchored beside the two, muttering something that Zeb couldn't decipher, waving his arms about cheerfully. Peculiar behavior from him too. Something wasn't quite right here. They all looked akin to how Zeb felt when he saw Kanan and Ezra again.

"You _are_ Zeb, right?" Sabine asked in caution.

"Yes, but-"

"We thought that we had lost you," Kanan said gravely, clasping a hand onto Zeb's shoulder. He squinted, that expression he made whenever sensing something in the force.

It all clicked. Zeb rationalized it out in his head. Ezras's tears weren't of sadness but of joy. They looked as if they had seen a ghost. Because they might as well had been. _Zeb wasn't alive in this universe._

Before he could confirm it, Hera's voice interjected over the comms. “Time's up: we have company. Ready into positions. Now!”

Kanan smiled, a kind of post-shock joy. “I guess that's about all the small talk for now. Can’t ever catch a break, can we?"

"Company?" Zeb finally asked. "What company?"

"We may or may not be in the middle of a job… and gotten on the bad side of some smugglers... and tracked…”

A buzz of rejuvenated energy awakened amongst the _Ghost_ crew in the loading bay. Gesturing to the unconscious Kallus in his arms, Zeb insisted, “Someone needs to help him." 

“Sabine! That’s on you."

In a return to form of her usual attitude, Sabine rolled her eyes. “Oh, great. It's not like I'm needed on the turret...”

“Well, Ezra’s not doing it,” Kanan remarked, climbing up the ladder to the upper section of the _Ghost_. “Still passes out at the sight of blood.”

Ezra followed suit. “It’s gross, okay!” Chopper rolled after him, grumbling some nonsense.

Mind spinning, Zeb was about to pass out himself. Numb. He stumbled, but Sabine shakily caught his back, bracing him upright. “Woah," she said. "You alright?” Zeb grunted in response and set Kallus down onto a crate. Sabine did a double take. "Wait a second. Is that _Agent Kallus_?"

"Not Agent. S'a long story," Zeb mumbled.

"Figured."

As the _Ghost_ lifted off of the moon's surface, airborne, Sabine returned with the medical supplies. Laluk dissuaded her, taking them from her hands. "I can handle him," he said. "Go help. Or, do whatever you need to do."

"Thanks." Not a second's hesitation to counter the offer, Sabine darted up the ladder.

"That applies to you too," Laluk said to Zeb. "You should help. Or, be present in support."

Zeb gave a silent wave of acknowledgement, breathing deeply. He closed his eyes, sharpening his thoughts from their cloudy spell. “Jus’ need a moment." He was stronger than his emotions. He could overcome this. “Right," Zeb vocalized, nodding and clearing his throat. "Thanks."

Departing from Kallus and Laluk, Zeb climbed up the ladder and emerged into the cockpit. A quick glimpse of this universe's Hera relayed to Zeb that she was no different than the one that he knew. Outside, the _Ghost_ was engaged in a dogfight with two other ships. Hera yanked up on the controls, barely evading a shot that had been fired at them.

Kanan held onto his seat dramatically. “Hey Hera? Ease on the reckless flying,” he teased.

“Kanan! Now's not the time!”

"I don't think there ever _is_ a time..."

The ship arced upward. Zeb stumbled over and collapsed onto the seat behind her, watching silently. As Hera banked the ship back down, catching the other vessel by surprise, Sabine, from the nose gun turret, took a couple shots. She hit their blasters, disarming them.

Zeb hollered, an instinctive habit. “Nice one, S’bine!”

“It was a combined effort,” she replied modestly.

“No, it was all you," Ezra gushed from the voiceover. "The shot was fantasti-” His voice channel cut off. Sabine snorted loudly, giving herself away as the culprit.

Some things never changed. Even across universes. “You beat me by one second,” Zeb joked.

“Well, great mind’s think alike.”

“Kanan!” hollered Ezra hollered from the dorsal turret. “Sabine cut off my comms!”

Kanan pinched the bridge of his nose and raised an eyebrow to Hera, who was preoccupied on the other ship chasing after them. “They're your kids, not mine.”

Hera side-glanced. A quick look, but, one that could cut through durasteel. “Sabine. That’s a potential hazard, put him back online.”

“I’m gonna regret making that reckless flying comment in some subtle way later, aren’t I?” Kanan teased her.

"Wouldn't count on me forgetting...”

With another abrupt turn, the _Ghost_ free-fell below the other ship, giving Ezra an opening. He hit the other ship's guns, now disabling both of their pursuers from the offensive completely, without casualties. “See?” Ezra said. “We make a pretty good team, Sabine-” he was cut off again. Zeb chuckled as he yelled from across the ship once more.

“Coast is clear,” Hera declared. “But the job's still not done yet.” The _Ghost_ left the stratosphere of the dreaded moon and the two chasing ships behind, and with a punch to the controls, jumped out into hyperspace.

Quiet, reflective swirls of blue out the viewport brought a debilitating ringing to Zeb's ears. The juxtaposition of cool hyperspace superseding bombastic action was sobering. Zeb's gaze drifted to the side. Lost in thought. Processing the experience of seeing Kanan and Ezra again, in the clutches of perilous adventures aboard the _Ghost_.

"Chopper. If you can, locate that tracker and try to disable it."

Chopper grumbled, but obeyed, rolling out of the room with chirps.

Kanan stood up from his swiveling chair, patting Zeb on the shoulder, and walked down the hallway. The warmth of his hands sent another wave of disbelief coursing through Zeb. The ghost-touch lingered, another reminder of his fate in Zeb's universe.

After busying herself with finalizing the coordinates, Hera finally spun around to face Zeb. She bit her lip, frowning. Tears formed in her eyes, but she smiled, ambivalent, pressing the comms. “Everyone. Family meeting. Now."

She stood up, mimicking Kanan's pat to the same spot on Zeb's shoulder.

For a moment, Zeb slunk deeper into the cockpit chair, alone, moping in his shock. A part of him feared that he wasn't ready; able to face Kanan or Ezra. Granted, Zeb was accustomed to loss. It was considerably second nature to him at that point.

But, he was still licking this wound. A very open, bitter wound. One that stung relentlessly, now mixed with an added pressure. This was something completely new. Cruel almost. To flaunt this unattainable possibility of normalcy in front of Zeb.

Whatever. Zeb was stronger than that. Forcing himself up, he shadowed them down the hall with fragile conviction. Into the lounge where Hera, Kanan, and Sabine awaited. They non-discretely quieted when Zeb entered, who paused at the entry. 

“Well,” Hera said with a smile, hands on her hips. “We're going to need some explaining.” 

Zeb opened his mouth, before he was cut off by footsteps frantically sprinting from behind. Ezra messily threw himself onto Zeb's back, sending him stumbling forward, hugging him from behind. So tight that it sent sharp pains through Zeb's stomach. 

"Um, kid..." Zeb questioned while laughing, bemused. Sure, he missed Ezra, but it was atypical behavior nonetheless. Ezra didn't respond, continuing to hold on. Zeb almost made a joke, but then reconsidered when he felt small tears soak into the fur on his back. 

"I thought we had lost you," Ezra cried, voice muffled.

With a bit of force, Zeb pried himself around so that they faced one another. "Yeah. Yeah, me too." 

Ezra cleared his throat loudly, embarrassed, and fronted a manly guise. He pulled away, gagging at Zeb's smell. "When's the last time you've taken a sonic?" he whined. "And where's your shirt? No one wants to see that!"

Zeb chuckled, as Ezra moved across the lounge, brushing fur off of his clothes and petulantly grumbling about not missing Zeb's shedding. The alternate universe Ghost Crew all faced Zeb, expectingly.

"Um..." Zeb smiled vaguely, feeling very much so under pressure. He shifted his feet. A question in particular had been lingering at the top of his mind since the moment they had picked him up. "Well, how did you find me?" Zeb asked.

They all gave him an unanimous puzzled look. "We assumed it had been you," Hera said.

"...What was me?"

Wordlessly, Hera started up a recording from the _Ghost's_ transmitter.

" _Um. Hey General Syndulla..._ " Zeb's voice began, from the message he had sent from Kallus-B's home. Of course. The channel for the _Ghost_ in this universe corresponded with the one from Zeb's. Ergo, the message must have transmitted to this _Ghost_ instead. 

"It wasn't hard to find you. Your coordinates were automatically broadcast as well," Hera explained.

Beside Ezra and Sabine, Kanan appeared quizzical, frowning. As if he sensed in the force that there was a catch about Zeb. That he didn't belong to their universe. A part of Zeb grew anxious. At the thought of shattering their hopes and breaking the news that he wasn't their Zeb returning. That he had to go home.

“Just to clear this up,” prompted Kanan. “You _are_ Zeb, right?” 

Zeb nodded. He had to tell them, rip the bacta patch off now before he was in too deep.

"But... I don't think I'm your Zeb." He explained it all. How he and Kallus belonged to an alternate universe. How they were still battling for the Rebellion against the Empire. How Kanan had sacrificed himself to save Hera. How Ezra had vanished with Thrawn. The alternate Ghost Crew's reaction to Kallus being a Rebel in Zeb's universe was priceless to say the least. They had only known him as the Imperial Agent. 

Considering the implication of what Zeb was saying, they processed the information with relative ease. However, Zeb couldn't ignore the fact that their eyes noticeably drifted lower and lower to the ground as he spoke more. All save for Kanan, who seemed to have already figured it out.

When Zeb finished, it then became their turn. Kanan told how the Rebellion in their universe had coalesced faster, catching the Empire off guard with sheer will and numbers. When the Empire fell, the Spectres returned to partaking in smaller jobs that helped people, giving to the needy as they had done before becoming involved with the Rebellion. Occasionally, they would still cross paths with Imperial remnants. The Zeb of their universe had sacrificed himself to save Ezra during one of those skirmishes.

As they spoke, Zeb zeroed his attention on Ezra, who was visibly shutting down by the minute. When Zeb brought up the conundrum of finding a way back to his own universe, Ezra finally spoke up. "So, you're not really back?" he questioned, eyes narrowed.

Zeb swallowed his throat, looking up to Kanan for support. He frowned knowingly. "No," Zeb said. "No. I'm not back. I'm not even your Zeb... I don't have the same memories..."

With no other words, Ezra stomped up, storming past Zeb down the hall, dark anger in his eyes.

"Hey... now, wait-" Zeb attempted to stop him, but it was futile. Ezra had already set his mind.

 _Karabast._ Zeb silently consulted Hera for guidance. She reassured him with a nod. "He'll be okay. When you left... it hit him hardest most of all."

Sighing, Sabine got up as well. "I'll make sure he's fine," she explained considerately, following down the hall.

Zeb knew that Sabine was struggling with the situation just the same as Ezra was. Only, she was better at hiding it.

"I think it's safe to say that we all will need some time to process," Kanan said wisely, hands on Hera's shoulders. "I'm sure you do too. You've lost and gained twice as much as we have." With an unsure smile, he left down the hall. "When we arrive at the post to exchange our supplies, we can find a medical center for your Kallus."

"Thanks. Kal will be fine," Zeb assured.

The last person lingering in the lounge besides Zeb was now Hera, arms folded across her chest.

She chewed on her cheek. "Ezra will understand. Eventually," she said. "I should've warned him. I couldn't bear the thought of getting their hopes up. But, when we received your message, I wanted to believe that it was really you..."

"Hera. S'okay. Really, I understand."

She tsked and smiled wearily. "Come here." She held her arms out for Zeb, pulled him into a hug. "I can't imagine what you're going through. Of course you'd understand. Losing twice as much as we have..."

They held. 

"I can't say that I'm not disappointed you aren't our Zeb," she admitted. "I wish you were. But, I'm glad that you're here anyway. Who knows? Maybe it'll help us. A blessing in disguise."

"I didn't realize how much I missed Kanan and Ezra 'til I saw 'em again..." 

Hera cupped his bearded cheek in a motherly hold. She forced a smile now, a twinkle in her eyes. "This non-Imperial Kallus," Hera said. "He's more than just a friend, isn't he?"

Not surprised by her intuition in the slightest, Zeb chuckled. "Yeah. He's a lot more than a friend."

"I know. It's... unexpected. But, from what you say, I would love to meet this version of him," she said. "But first, let's start with this other person. This Laluk. And Zeb? If you want, we do have some spare jumpsuits of yours," she said, gesturing to his torn up one. "A sonic wouldn't hurt either."

Zeb agreed sheepishly. Then, followed Hera back down into the loading bay, where Kallus and Laluk resided. Zeb was ashamed: between the recent excitement and commotion, Kallus had almost slipped from the foreground of his mind.

"You must be Laluk," Hera said, extending a hand. He reciprocated the handshake. "I'm Hera. Welcome aboard the _Ghost._ "

Laluk's helmet nodded, then glanced to the sleeping Kallus, knocked out from the sedatives, bandages in his side. "It's enough to stabilize him, but he requires more qualified treatment." 

"We're headed to a trading post," Hera explained. "There, we can send Kallus to a medical center, and find you a transport."

He shook his head. "I'm not leaving just yet. My work here isn't finished, between these two."

What could he want more from Zeb? Patting Zeb's shoulder, Hera turned to leave. "That's fine by me as long as it is with Zeb. For now, I have a ship to maintain. Feel free to make yourselves at home."

After she left, Zeb knelt beside Kallus, tense, stroking his bearded jaw.

"He'll be fine," Laluk assured. "Trust me."

Zeb nodded. He _did_ trust Laluk; at that point, how could he not? But, that still wasn't reason to throw caution into the wind. "That's the thing. I _do_ trust you. But, you're got some explainin' to do."

Laluk didn't object, sitting down across from Zeb. Off of Zeb's look, he explained, "the sphere-thing we went through, back at the moon. It was like a wormhole, only a gateway through space, not time. Much like hyperspace."

That much Zeb could already figure. Instead, what he wanted to know was how it just so happened to show up there and send them to Kallus' exact location. Seemed convenient.

Laluk again appeared to read Zeb's mind. "Whoever opened it, is the same supposed 'who' that opened the gateway you took to get here. Someone, or something, that has the power to do so. Who's pulling the strings. Someone who I presume is in good favor with you. It seems they want you to succeed."

Zeb couldn't see how sending him and Kallus to this universe in the first place translated to good favor. Whatever. There was no point in pressing for answers that he knew weren't there.

"You sent out the distress signal," Zeb assumed. "And stole that armor you wear from the other Kallus." 

"Yes. I did. I'm from the Rebellion. Intelligence. For those reasons, I prefer to keep my identity hidden. On patrol, I happened across the wormhole just as you had. I landed, and was shortly pursued by the other Kallus."

That answered a few of Zeb's questions. 

Laluk continued. "I stole his armor, figured it wouldn't be detrimental, and then snuck in a distress signal through his communication device. When you arrived, I watched from close by. Hesitant when I saw your Kallus. I was afraid that he was just the same as the one here."

Zeb pulled the chrono out from Kallus' pocket, the one that had deciphered the coordinates to Kallus-B's home. "This was you too?" he guessed.

Laluk nodded. "I feared that it had been far-fetched, but the two of you were clever. Figured it out quickly." 

"Not sure if it was that or jus' dumb luck." Zeb reclined, satisfied with his answers, save for one. "And lastly: where did you get that bo-rifle?" he asked, pointing to it.

"Bo-rifle?" Laluk repeated out loud. He held it up. The weapon appeared quite similar to the one that Kallus once owned as an Imperial, sleek and black. "I wasn't aware that it had a name. Called it my 'glow stick of death'."

Zeb laughed. "Well, it's called a bo-rifle. Haven't you ever heard of that before?" From Laluk's blank look, Zeb continued, "it’s a weapon of my people. Exclusively, our Honor Guard. S’also highly offensive to have one an' not be a guardsman..." 

Awkwardly, Laluk set it down. "My apologies. I wasn't aware. It belonged to the other Kallus, another thing that I stole."

Of course. It was a spitting image of Kallus' old bo-rifle, because it _was_ Kallus' bo-rifle. Only, belonging to the Kallus of this universe. "Listen," Zeb said. "Keep it. You fought well, an' you deserve it more than that Imperial scum, by the sounds of him."

The pieces were beginning to gather into a semblance of a picture. Zeb stood up, having been satisfied with his answers.

"I'm gonna tend to a few things," Zeb decided out loud. "Hera meant it, by the way. Ship's all yours. Feel free to do whatever you want."

Laluk nodded. "I think I'm content to rest here. Wait it out."

With a nod, Zeb kissed Kallus' forehead and left the loading bay. Reentering the second floor of the ship, and then, into the hall of cabins, Zeb paused. Chopper raced by, 'accidentally' rolling over Zeb's toe. Annoyed, Zeb snapped his hands to him. The droid rolled away, screaming gibberish. Zeb rolled his eyes, and cursed him under his breath.

He looked around. At the sealed door to his cabin- amended, Ezra's cabin.

Zeb's thoughts lingered to him. Of the image of his crestfallen face. The poor kid; he didn't know how to navigate these emotions. Timorously rapping his knuckles on the metal, Zeb cleared his throat. "Ezra? Um. If you're wantin' to talk... I'm here for you." He winced, racking his brain for what to say. 

"He's not in there."

Zeb startled. Sabine stood leaning against the frame of the hall, watching him. He had forgotten how quiet she could be. Sabine jabbed a thumb behind her, to her left. Pointing to Kanan's cabin. "Ezra stays in there now. He... doesn't sleep in this one anymore."

Zeb bit his lip. "So, it's unoccupied?"

To answer, Sabine opened the door and submerged into the dim room, beckoning for Zeb to follow.

Zeb obliged. Inside, his old room was indistinguishable to the one from his own universe. On both bunks, a layer of dust settled in a wistful sea. It was incredibly somber, yet, peaceful at the same time. Still. Quiet. The bo-rifle from this universe lied across the lower bunk. It remained the only surface in the room not coated in a layer of dust. Zeb picked it up experimentally. 

"We polish your rifle every so often," Sabine explained, nonchalant. "It's the least we can do." 

She was underselling it. The rifle was spotless; they must have been cleaning it on the regular. Zeb couldn't muster any words, but tried to convey a thank you through his smile.

"To Ezra, this isn't a room, it's a mausoleum," Sabine said bitterly. "But I don't think so. To me, it's... peaceful. I kind of enjoy it. Gives me another place to go when I feel like throwing Chopper at someone." She smiled at her attempt at levity. "Anyway, check this out-" the lights flicked on. Blinking a few times to adjust, Zeb drew his eyes to the wall Sabine pointed to.

On it, within shades of purple and lilac was a large painting of Zeb's face. A deviation from Sabine's typical style, it was hyper-realistic, detailed, a near-spitting image. Except, Zeb didn't feel like he was looking at himself. The lasat staring back was... regal. Bold. Honorable. Everything Zeb valued, and wished himself to be. "Ya made me look... badass," Zeb joked.

"I made you look like _you_ ," Sabine affirmed. "It's..." she never finished her sentence. Zeb didn't expect her to. It was something that would have been lost in translation, exclusive to the undefinable expression of brushes and paint.

Zeb quickly understood that the painting wasn't what he wished he was, but rather, everything that Sabine perceived him _to be_. She wasn't simply painting Zeb. Sabine had unwittingly appointed herself as the caretaker of Zeb's memory. Of his legacy. His honor. 

Sitting down on the ground, mesmerized, Zeb couldn't pry his eyes away from the wall.

"Well, what do ya think?" Sabine demanded in impatience. "I spent a lifetime on it. Nine botched attempts, one of them perfect but then _ruined_ by Chopper... _so_ much paint wasted and _way_ too many sleepless hours to count," she listed jokingly.

She quieted when Zeb didn't respond.

Approaching closer, Sabine sat down on the ground next to him. They sat for a while, watching the painting. Zeb felt so lucky to have Sabine. To have the whole crew; all of these people who loved and cared for one another, despite everything. No matter what. Even in death.

"I still fuss over the nose," Sabine broke the silence. "And now that I see you again, I was right. It's a bit smaller than I remembered."

"It's perfect," Zeb insisted, clearing his throat to rid the lump there. "Don't change a thing."

With a sigh, Sabine leaned back against the wall. Her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. "I'm sorry about Ezra. He's just... still not mature about these things." 

She crossed her arms, obviously battling with the tough facade she composed.

"You know that for all of us," Sabine continued. "We lose more than we gain. I mean, you know more than I do. But, just the thought that for once... we were getting something back." Sabine frowned. "I wanted to believe it, that you back for good. I really did. But, I guess it was a little too perfect to be true. Whatever. We're used to it. Who cares." 

Personality wise, she was similar to Kallus in more ways than Zeb had realized before. Dealing with her was quite the same. Very closed off, defensive. "I care," Zeb said. "An' I know you do too."

Sabine huffed, eyes on the ground. "Yeah. I guess I do."

It was probably best to change the subject. No matter how vehemently Sabine wished Zeb to think otherwise, she was still just a kit to him. Zeb punched her shoulder lightly. "I might not be stayin' for long, but hey, we have time now. How 'bout some Dejarik?" he offered. "Or maybe you can teach me paintin'."

Sabine threw Zeb a 'yeah-right' look, seeing through his attempt. "You don't like art, Zeb. Or, do you, in your universe?"

"No, I don't. But, if it means spendin' time with ya..." 

She smiled. "Yeah. Okay, sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any kudos/feedback is greatly appreciated- your support keeps me going!


	6. A Way Home

It wasn't long before the _Ghost_ lurched out of hyperspace, arriving at the mining station where the Spectres of this universe had arranged to rendezvous with their contact. It was a shabby, homely kind of colony, constructed upon an asteroid. Around, the flowing tide of space was clustered by nebulas of orange and green clouds, painting the scenery, grandiose reckless bursts.

Hera docked the ship hastily. Zeb, along with Kanan and Sabine, rushed Kallus to a medical facility. There, they were assured that his injuries could be remedied without complications.

Since non-patients were barred from following into the treatment areas, Zeb, with nothing to do, decided to pull his weight. He helped Kanan, Sabine, and Hera deliver the crates they had ferried. Sabine informed Zeb that their contact was sending the supplies to civilians in Mon Cala. A civil war had supposedly wiped through there, the planet in too far a disarray for the Spectres to brave delivering them by hand.

Despite Hera’s constant reassurances to Zeb, Ezra still hadn’t emerged from his cabin since his arrival. Much less spoken to anyone. It wasn't long before Zeb adopted the weight of the blame upon his heavy shoulders.

After arriving at their designated meeting location, Zeb elected to pass on the negotiations. Waiting for them and for Kallus' treatment to finish, he slipped away from the loading dock. Standing on the balcony outside, acquainted by a stunning view of the nebulas nearby. 

Zeb now wore a dashing, fresh jumpsuit, courtesy of the spare supply from the Zeb in this universe. It boasted the same maroon color as the rest of the alternate Ghost Crew. He supposed that color coordination was one of many luxuries of not being in wartime.

Dotted in small constellations across Zeb's fur was also paint. A result of his time spent with Sabine during the hyperspace journey. Zeb had, lousily, attempted to paint a loth cat for Ezra. Sabine insisted that it had turned out fine. Zeb, on the other hand, couldn't stand to be in its general vicinity without cringing.

The sound of footsteps yanked Zeb out of his pensive. He hadn't been paying much consideration to how long he had been standing there for. However, he assumed it had been for some time, as his nose picked up Kanan’s scent.

Zeb glanced to the side, confirming his hypothesis. 

"You won’t believe how much they charge for drinks out here," Kanan said casually. He wore a soft smile, walking towards Zeb carefully to not spill the cups in both of his hands. "Might go broke before the first sip...” he settled beside Zeb, offering out one of them.

Zeb hummed, accepting the gesture. "Wha's this?"

"From the bar downstairs. I figured that we could use a drink." Kanan leaned over the guardrail. "You know, for old time's sake."

Zeb took a sip. The cocktail was strong, even for Zeb, with a tart kick- Kanan remembered Zeb's palette quite well.

The two entertained themselves with small talk, trading and comparing memories of the other from separate universes. Some of the stories aligned quite neatly, however, most of them contrasting. All equally humorous. An omnipresent twinge of bittersweet between easily faltering smiles.

"So,” Zeb went on, after a particular silence. “This is your new mission, huh? The new 'why'. Transportin' supplies, helpin' the needy. No war, no politics. No Empire." In truth, Zeb had already developed an envy for the life of these alternate Spectres. To be contributing to the galaxy in a meaningful way, not through war, but for the solitary purpose of helping people.

Kanan shrugged. “It’s not too bad.”

“It’s a dream,” Zeb agreed, a tad wistful.

A corner, a very sure, bleeding, corner of Zeb’s heart yearned to stay in this universe. To have Kanan and Ezra back again. To have a normal life. It almost felt predestined; the only piece missing from this galaxy was _himself_.

Pushing these thoughts down, Zeb feigned a smile and clasped Kanan’s shoulder, shaking it gently. Reminiscing over half-shared memories. “M'glad to see you again."

“I miss you, Zeb. We all do.”

For reasons unbeknownst to Zeb, he threw forth a sentence before composing a clear destination. "For a while after you left..." he blurted out. "Karabast, I was so _angry_. Thought that I could’ve done more for you. Could’ve said more, like told you how much I appreciated everythin' you did for me, like takin' me in under your wing."

But, those unspoken words had never gotten the chance to be told before it was too late for Zeb. Stuck, driftin' up in his mind forever. Waiting if they would ever one day be dusted off and used.

That was, until now.

“I had regrets after you left too," Kanan admitted. "It's a universal feeling. My advice? Learn from it. Grow, and then move on." He nudged his side. "You didn't fail me. The fact that you're admitting this now is testament to that."

Zeb smiled, spirits slightly lifted. Resisting the urge to hug Kanan until he couldn't breathe. "I miss your pep talks," Zeb chuckled. "Certainly would've made things a lot easier for all of us after you left. Back on my side." 

"How are things on your side?" Kanan asked, genuinely curious.

"S'a lot like here," Zeb said. "The _Ghost's_ quieter, that's for sure. 'Specially for Hera. She's carryin' your kit, an' you two never even got 'round to admittin' that you loved each other 'til it was too late.”

Zeb wasn't sure why he had gone that far into detail. It was incredibly somber, and benefitted no one to know. Under his breath, Zeb cursed his slippery tongue. Probably was in his best interest to slow down the pace of his already-dwindling drink.

However, Kanan's reaction surprised Zeb. Kanan choked on his sip. “I'm sorry, she's _pregnant_ with my kid?" he repeated. "And you said, _love_ each other?” He seemed to be genuinely baffled by the notion, and by Zeb's knowledge of his feelings towards Hera.

Stifling back a roaring laugh, Zeb snorted. No matter how level-headed and wise Kanan was, romance never seemed to be a straightforward endeavor for him. “Of course she does, anyone could figure that out," Zeb teased. "You're tellin' me that you _still_ haven't told each other?”

“It’s been suggested, between us two. I think. It's considered more of an unspoken thing...”

“Karabast, mate! You gotta tell her!” Zeb insisted, unable to control his laugh.

Kanan grew significantly paler in complexion, adding to the hilarity of the situation. " _Now_?"

“No, not _now,"_ Zeb assured. "But, sometime soon. What's stoppin’ you?”

"Oh, I don't know. For starters," he listed. "What if she doesn’t feel the same? Or, what if I’m not prepared for a commitment like that? A relationship? Woah. No, no. Definitely not ready. Without a doubt.”

Zeb caught his arm. “Kanan. Get it together, man. You love her, right?”

The twinkle that flooded Kanan's eyes at the mention of Hera was an answer enough. “How could I not?" Kanan reasoned. "It's _Hera_."

“Then, that's all you need to know. Like you said, learn from what happened in my universe. Don't wait 'til it's too late. But, if ya want my advice, don't force it either. Or else you'll end up lookin' like a dope," Zeb advised. "Let it come naturally. It jus' happens.”

Kanan processed this and returned back to his spot beside Zeb on the balcony. Took a dangerously large gulp of his drink. “Wait a minute. Since when did you start imparting the romantic wisdom?" Kanan questioned. "Speaking as if from experience..." 

Zeb jerked his head to the side, indicating to the direction of the medical center where Kallus resided. Kanan frowned. Blank. "Do I really haveta spell it out for you?" Zeb sighed in half-amusement. "It's Kal."

Nothing. "What's Kallus?"

Zeb facepalmed.

Kanan’s eyes popped out of his head. “No kidding. _Agent Kallus?"_ He quickly realized his error after a sharp glare from Zeb. "Sorry. Force of habit. It's easy to forget that your version isn't Imperial anymore."

“It's a bit of a learnin' curve, I'm sure,” Zeb pardoned him. “But, he's a changed man. I stand by that. Even if he sometimes doesn't see it himself.”

Chuckling, Kanan surveyed the vast expanse of space. "Who would've thought," he said under his breath. "But hey, I'm glad for you. Cheers."

"Cheers."

They clinked cups and silently drank. Between chaos, and grief, and sorrow, somehow, life always rebounded to the facets that kept Zeb trudging forward: laughter, a reunion amongst lost friends.

And in that moment, it came full circle. A boomerang piercing through Zeb's open heart. He finally understood that despite whatever this journey was, Zeb had been given a gift. There. Now. To share in one last fleeting moment with Kanan, amongst friends fated to say goodbye.

A gift Zeb wasn't sure he was willing to let go of without a struggle. Zeb's eyes drew to the ground that he softly kicked at. “Kanan. What if-?”

“-I know," Kanan cut him off. "I sense your conflict. And I can't decide between what to tell you, without letting my bias get in the way."

"Then, tell me both," Zeb suggested. "There's always the chance that Kal and I won't even find a way out of here."

"Selfishly, I'd hate to see you gone," Kanan admitted. "We miss you. But, at the end of the day, I can't encourage you to stay. There are responsibilities in your universe that you can't walk away from."

Zeb silently agreed with him. Even though it was a frustrating answer, and didn't help his predicament at all.

"Just know that whatever you decide, I'll understand. Don't worry about us. Sabine, Hera, and I will all be fine," Kanan assured. " _Except,_ you have to set things right with Ezra before you go. The kid's devastated, and I can't pull him out of it. Only you can.”

“I know," Zeb said. "I'll fix it.”

“Without making any promises you know you can’t keep." 

As Zeb took another sip from his drink, gravely, Kanan's words floated around like a bitter taunt in his mind. Reminding him that he was no closer to a resolution. Kanan was right. To stay here would be... selfish. Zeb had a responsibility back in his universe, one that was not easily dropped without consequence to conscience.

No matter how naively he pretended it wasn't so, Zeb knew deep down that his time with Kanan was numbered once more.

"Soon, this will be it," Zeb said. "We'll both be gone again. What should we do?"

Kanan shrugged, just as powerless to the unrelenting tide of time as Zeb was. "We enjoy it while it lasts. You think it'd be enough. But, look at us: wishing one moment was an infinity so that we could talk to one another again for just a second longer."

Zeb half-smiled in agreement. He reflected over the clouded expanse of space before them. "What a better way to enjoy a view like this?"

Before regaining a full consciousness, Kallus discerned Zeb's unmistakable voice, arguing. Quite the recognizable sound. Kallus blinked his eyes open, now alert. He resided in a cot. By its foot, Zeb was glaring at a medical droid, from the sounds of it, in dispute over something. Zeb growled, shooing the droid away.

From the lack of pain and soreness, Kallus assumed that his wound had been repaired. He knew that the injury hadn't been anything catastrophic. The blaster had shot his side, evading most of his vital organs.

Muttering to himself, Zeb finally registered that Kallus had awoken. He did a double-take, his expression softening. "Kal. You're up."

Kallus held back the urge to make a 'how perceptive' comment. He sat up cumbersomely.

"You need anythin'?" Zeb asked. He knelt beside the bed, stroking a clawed thumb across Kallus' cheek. 

"No," Kallus said. He despised how forceless and frail his voice had carried in the air, like some frightened cadet out of his depth. He indicated towards the hall where the droid had departed. "Care to explain the reason for that?" 

"The sleemo tried to jack up the prices on us," Zeb growled. "I knew this place was seedy."

"Which would be..."

Zeb frowned, before he caught onto Kallus' shortage of information. "Oh. Right. A hospital, on a minin' colony," he answered.

That was one mark checked off of the run-down list of answers Kallus immediately sought. But, before he could reach the rest, the events that had transpired back on the moon flooded his memory in anxious red letters. Kallus grabbed Zeb's arm, iron tight. "Zeb," he warned. "It was him. The counterpart me, he remains loyal to the Empire-"

Zeb silenced Kallus by covering his mouth with his hand. The electrocardiogram beside the bed had spiked, beeping intensely. "I know," Zeb placated. "Calm down, Kal. 'S all right."

Mind propelling faster than he could keep up with, Kallus recoiled back down into the bed. "How did we arrive at a mining colony?" he investigated after a moment's silence.

Zeb didn't answer straightaway, in deep thought. His ears moved about every so often, absently expressive. "You're not gonna believe this," he replied. "Well, actually, it's pretty easy to believe. Considerin' everythin' else that's happened."

Kallus threw him a 'cut to the chase' look.

"Right. They found us."

Quite the nondescript answer. "Just for the sake of being on the same page..." 

"Kanan. Hera. Sabine. _Ezra._ This universe's Ghost crew," Zeb explained. “Who, happen to still be alive, an' together."

A quick moment passed before Kallus fully registered Zeb's meaning. Of course there was another _Ghost_ in this universe. The news about Kanan and Ezra was... thrilling, albeit, concerning. The inevitability of a second goodbye loomed overhead. It didn't take a Jedi to predict that.

"I had unknowin'ly sent a message to 'em," Zeb continued. "That's how they found us. But... it's a lot more."

Zeb relayed the past events to Kallus. How the armored man had saved their lives once again, now under the identity of Laluk, and led Zeb through a gateway through space to Kallus' location. How the Ghost Crew had picked them up from the moon. How Kanan was still alive, and Ezra back. And lastly, how the Zeb of this universe had died. 

At the mention of it, a knot twisted in Kallus' stomach. "I'm so sorry," he said, after Zeb finished his exposition. "I can't imagine...” He couldn't allow himself to finish that train of thought.

There also wasn't any contention now to why Kallus-B had remained Imperial in this universe. Without Garazeb Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus was nothing more than a heartless bastard. Once again, Kallus was reminded of how fragile and contingent his own virtue was. That inside, his innate predisposition was darkness, the line between the two Kallus' blurred.

"How could I let this happen?" Kallus whispered. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have suggested following that droid. Certainly not proposed that we split up with the other Kallus, like some blundering rookie. I wasn't thinking straight..."

"Well, nothin' about us is really _straight_ ," Zeb joked. 

Kallus didn't laugh, stone-faced. Zeb let up his smile for a frown.

"Right. Sorry. This is serious." He shook his head for the flat attempt. "Kal, it's not your fault. I'm the one who led us here in the first place..." He squinted at Kallus intuitively. "There's somethin' you're still not tellin' me."

Oh, how true that assessment was. "I _did_ tell you everything," Kallus bitterly lied.

Only, it was a half-truth. The reality was that, deep down, Kallus had himself convinced that it wasn't some counterpart Kallus on that moon. No, it was _himself._ Holding up a darkened mirror, the part of himself that he knew still lurked underneath, never to leave.

Zeb's eyes narrowed, reading Kallus' mind. "You're nothin' like him," Zeb insisted, emphasizing each word as he cupped Kallus' face. “You're. Not. Him. I don't think you understand that-"

“-No, it's _you_ who doesn't understand, that I've been battling this other Kallus long before arriving on that forsaken moon," Kallus finally admitted. "That, he has been inside my head the moment I defected from the Empire. And I'm not _sure_ anymore if there's a distinction between us."

"You don't mean that."

"What if I do?" Kallus challenged. Irritated, lost, and feeling loathsome, Kallus threw his hands up. "Yell at me," Kallus demanded. "Now. I want you to be furious, Garazeb."

"What?"

"Hate me. Be disgusted by me. Do something! Anything other than attempting to solve my problems. Anything other than treating me like I deserve a _speck_ of it."

He was disarmed by Zeb's stubborn silence. Kallus clenched his jaw. Wishing upon Zeb the same understanding as himself, to see through the lies that were his askew perception of him.

Zeb wordlessly crammed himself onto the tiny cot. It creaked dangerously. He pulled Kallus into a hug from the side. Refusing to show even a minute notion of irritation.

"Why?" Kallus asked, genuinely curious. "Why aren't you _furious_? I love you, Zeb, but you notoriously have an awful temper." Yet, now, he haven't even batted an eye, despite the fact that Kallus had yelled at him just moments prior.

“Because. I got what I wanted," Zeb replied quietly, as if it were the simplest answer in the universe. "You were bein' honest. You've never done that before.”

It was only then, that Kallus realized that he had opened up to Zeb. He should have been embarrassed, should have been disappointed that he let his guard down with so little a fight. But, he wasn't. He felt... lighter.

Zeb held onto Kallus for only a moment longer, kissing the top of his head. Then, got up and walked to the other side of the medical room. Giving Kallus the space he knew that he needed. "That's what you want?" Zeb asked. "You want me to stop tryin' to solve the problems for you?"

"Yes. That's what I want." 

"M'kay. Good. It's a startin' point," Zeb said. He appeared to be struggling with what to say. "You know what I want? I want... waffles. No. I want... I want to see you happy, Kal. But I know I can't. An' that makes me feel powerless. I _hate_ feelin' like that." As he spoke, Zeb looked powerless as well. His ears were permanently folded back, as if shutting out the risk of anything possibly hurting him.

"You can't expect me to bury the past without creating a few ghosts, Zeb," Kallus noted. "And, you can't fend them off for me. Some things are out of your control."

"I know," Zeb said. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Within those green eyes, Kallus saw that Zeb still believed that he could help him. That, in Zeb's mind, they were going to save one another, that he was going to save Kallus' life, and Kallus' his, even after that. 

Perhaps they still could.

"It didn't stop me from tryin'," Zeb continued. "I thought it could've been a joint effort. We could've worked through it _together_." He began to pace. "An' now, I have a headache. Splittin'."

Kallus sat up in the bed. "Zeb. You're upset," he observed.

"Yeah? What gave me away?" 

"Your ears keep twitching."

"Are they?" Zeb muttered sardonically, continuing to strut around. He paused, instantly regretting it. "M'sorry, that was mean. I am upset. But... it's only partially you. It's also somethin' else."

Before they could talk through it, a knock came from the door. Zeb and Kallus shared unresolved glances.

"Come in." The door opened, entering through, Hera Syndulla. 

Kallus couldn't help but smile at the sight. "General Syndulla," he greeted formally, frantically brushing his tousled hair. "It's good to see..." he paused, realizing his error. "It's good to _meet_ you," Kallus amended. 

"Hi Kallus," Hera replied, smile warm. "Just call me Hera. I would introduce myself, but, you know. I'm glad to hear that you're alive and well."

"...And not trying to kill us," Kanan Jarrus remarked, entering the room behind her. Kallus hadn't expected himself to be struck so hard by the sight of Kanan once more. But, when it did hit, it hit him like a freighter. 

Sabine entered, eyeing Kallus quizzically, but forcing an unsure smile. Kallus smiled back, overplaying amiability between the people who only knew him as a ruthless killer in their timeline.

Lastly, they were followed by Laluk, who Kallus reserved his cold gaze for. To say that Kallus still had a number of caveats about trusting him would be an understatement. "Well, now that our little cohort is together," Kanan spoke up. "We need to talk."

"Is this in reference to finding a way out of here?" Kallus asked. "Because honestly, at this point, that's all I care about."

"It is," Hera chimed in. "During the hyperspace trip, here and there, we've been brainstorming as best we can. Unfortunately, finding a way back doesn't appear to be too simple."

"With all due respect," Kallus said. "It _is_ that simple."

All eyes were on him now, and Kallus was suddenly very aware of his disheveled appearance.

He cleared his throat. "When the other Kallus attacked me, he claimed responsibility for opening the gateway that took us here," Kallus explained. "If that's true, then the next course of action would be to return back to the moon, find whatever device or gizmo he has, and use it to open the gateway back up. We easily outnumber him and his droid, it's two against seven."

"Eight," Hera corrected. "Including Chopper."

"Does he really count?" Zeb grumbled.

"Yes. He's a part of the family, Garazeb Orrelios, whether you like it or not." 

Zeb frowned and folded his ears down. Kallus smiled, reminding himself to get tips from Hera sometime.

Returning his attention back to the topic at hand, Kallus remembered something. "However, I do recall the other Kallus mention that their attempts since had failed. It's very possible that their successful trial could have been accredited to... luck."

Perhaps, this other Kallus had all the pieces, but was missing the final one. Like a locked chest, without a key to open it.

"Often, with these kind of things," Kanan spoke up. "It's not always scientific. The force works behind everything at all times. It could have had an influence to all of this, somehow."

"But Kanan, how did he open it in the first place?" Sabine pointed out. "It's not like the force decided it liked him one day, and then not the next..."

"Yeah. But, I can never tell for sure with the force. It's always got a knack for some sort of agenda..." Kanan stroked his beard in thought.

"The only way to know for sure is to go there and find out ourselves," Laluk finally spoke up. "There's no hurt in trying." Kallus eyed him wearily still. Laluk appeared to catch onto his distrust. "Listen," he said. "You're going to have to start looking at things differently if you want to get out of here. If we are to coalesce, your trust is essential."

"There's not a whole lot of that going around lately, is there?" Kallus remarked.

"I'll give you my word."

"And, I don't know how much that's worth."

Kallus could've sworn that he heard a "this is awkward" from Sabine, and a stifled laugh from Kanan.

Hera timely chimed in to deescalate the tension. "How about we take a time out?" she suggested, nodding in encouragement to Zeb and Kallus. "Let you two settle through all of this."

"No," Kallus insisted. Even though he still didn't like the idea of Laluk tagging along, it was out of his control. "There's no decision to settle. That moon is our best shot, and I don't see any better ideas getting thrown around." 

He raised an eyebrow to Zeb, who had been uncharacteristically silent the whole conversation.

"Alright. It's decided," Hera said. "If we play this right... you boys might just be going home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any kudos/feedback is greatly appreciated- your support keeps me going!


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